Bruised verse: Post Blue
by BeckaBoo1735
Summary: Sequel to Bruise Pristine. It's been almost two years since the Winchester's decided to adopt Dean. Now should be the time for them to be a happy normal family, but Dean's old life may make that dream impossible.
1. Falling back into the decay

_A few weeks ago Samantha V sent me a message requesting a one shot in this verse and I suddenly had an idea pop into my head (which is nothing to do with the shot she asked for) and here it is! I promise that shot will be in here at some point though! But I'm not gonna tell you what it is haha. Samantha V has been truly amazing at editing and helping me with this story! THANK YOU SO MUCH HONEY X I'm having a blast with you! _

_(If you are a brand new reader, it's probably best you go read Bruise Pristine first lol, and all you oldies... howdy! :D Thanks for coming back x)_

_Hope ya'll enjoy x _

**Post Blue**

_**Summary: **_ Sequel to Bruise Pristine. It's been almost two years since the Winchester's decided to adopt Dean. Now should be the time for them to be a happy normal family, but Dean's old life may make that dream impossible.

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Falling back into the decay**

"Shit, son of a-" Dean cursed when he couldn't quite get the chain on his bike to clip. "Hah," he whispered into the night when it finally snapped into place and his bicycle wasn't going anywhere.

Glancing around quickly, he stood and moved towards the seemingly empty windows of the dark house. Sticking to the shadows he searched for entrance, praying that no one would hear him.

John, Mary and Sam still couldn't understand why he insisted on keeping his bike outside on a chain as opposed to locking it away in the garage like the rest of them. He had a perfectly valid reason, but he didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, his ass would be toast.

He groaned at is numb ass, next time, he really needed to research better, he hadn't realized Linwood was over an hour away on his damn bike, next week, he was sticking to the local park, only problem there, there was only so many monsters in one town.

Stretching up he lifted the rock he'd jammed into the window and opened it enough so that he could slide through into his bedroom. Scrabbling upwards he hauled himself over the ridges of the window sill.

After closing the window, silent as ever, he slipped off his shoes before his feet touched the floor and carried them in his hands as slid off the window ledge and limped forward blindly, putting as much weight as he could manage on his right leg- the one that wasn't bleeding all over his new wooden floor_. 'Mary's gonna kill me for that! God I hope it wipes up...at least it's not carpet anymore._'

Thankfully he'd moved back into the downstairs bedroom after he and Sam had reluctantly agreed that a twelve year old and sixteen year old sharing a room, no matter if it was the master, simply wasn't working for them. There just wasn't enough space anymore for the two of them.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he walked into his desk, so as it turns out, limping and pitch black don't mix. _Damn spirit for tossing me onto a broken bottle. What moron goes drinking in a grave yard anyway?_

Once he found his bed, he sat his ass down and decided to wait a minute for the room to stop slowly spinning before getting a look at the damage.

He was so grateful Mary and John gave him lunch money every damn school day without hesitation, he didn't buy food with it, but he was grateful. To make up for no lunch he made sure he ate three times as much breakfast as John, then took some snacks with him as well as the money, he was pretty sure everyone was expecting him to add a puffy layer over his muscular frame any day now with the amount of food they thought he consumed.

But the money he was sent off to school with wasn't for food, no, he saved the money for first aid supplies. On weekends he'd gather all his money up and add the local pharmacy to his regular run. He always made sure he switched it up though. When she went for bands aids and normal house hold first aid stuff, Dean didn't want the guy at the front counter telling Mary he had seen him come around several times in the last month. So sometimes he'd go the pharmacy, sometimes he went to the grocery store and once he'd even jogged all the way to the next town to get some stuff the local pharmacy didn't have. Those things ended up being highly good quality dental floss and a sharp curved needle which he still had today... and would probably be needing if his leg was as cut up as it felt.

But before he could even find himself a light, his door opened.

"Dean?"

Dean thought maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight and kept silent John wouldn't hear or see him.

"Dean, what are doing up? It's four in the morning."

_Guess not. At least it's still dark, he hasn't turned the hall lights on which he tends to do sometimes._

"Sorry, I uh...I couldn't sleep." John just looked like a black blob amongst greyish blobs standing in his doorway, so if he was a black blob to John, hopefully he wouldn't see the blood. _Thank god! But this is so not good. I really need to start wearing black pants to match my black jacket, black hides blood so well it would make my life a hell of a less stressful in the getting caught department. _

"You okay kiddo?"

John being concerned just made him all the more guilty.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks. Just a little stressed over my math exam tomorrow." _Okay that was way too formal, nice work idiot, he's definitely going to know you're lying out of your ass now._

"It'll be fine kiddo, you've studied more hours than I've seen anyone in my life, including Sammy. You'll do great."

"Kay, thanks...night."

"Night son."

His door closed and his breath heaved out in relief, well either that or the blood loss was making him breathless... _Crap, that's not good_

He waited for the receding soft footsteps and creak of stairs indicating John going back to bed before moving from his own to the side table drawer. Hastily pushing aside the assorted junk he normally kept there he pulled out his well disguised first aid kit. To a casual – parental- observer it was just a ragged pencil case with Led Zeppelin doodles all over it. Thank god Sammy never needed to borrow a pen because it was actually stuffed with a bunch of bandages, pain killers and other necessities. Smoothing out on the floor the plastic bag he saved in his drawer for occasions like this, he sat down with his injured leg over it so his blood wouldn't dribble any more on the wooden floor.

Using his new flashlight to light the room a little, just enough not to be caught, he made short work of cleaning the long jagged gashes. Pleased to see that none of the cuts were leaking worse than a steadily decreasing trickle, he carefully wiped away the sticky mess and only had to put a couple of stitches in the deepest parts before wrapping it in a thick bandage. Tomorrow the Winchester's wouldn't see his injuries just like they never did, he hid them so well you could give him an Emmy, but hell, he'd had years of practice. Tomorrow he could pretend like he was having an off day, a day where he didn't want his bruised shoulder to be squeezed, didn't want his cheek being cupped, didn't want the annoying jabs to his sore ribs that Sam sometimes sent as a joke. They would never know -his own _family_ - and wasn't that just the most depressing thing you've ever heard?

_**SPN**_

"Dean, honey it's time to get up," someone called from his door giving a light knock.

Jerking awake from a fast fading dream with his Uncle Ron and one of his 'training' sessions, Dean was surprised when the illusion of pain didn't go away. _Crap my head hurts...oh shit my leg...oh...oh, that still hurts, thank god._ The last thing he needed was an infection numbing his limbs and have them to falling off with gangrene, but now that he thought about it, of rather felt it, maybe a numb leg wouldn't be so bad. _Damn that hurts. Stupid cranky ghost._

"Coming," he yawned swinging his legs off the bed testing his left leg before putting his weight on it. Wasn't too bad, could be better. Taking a quick shower and avoiding his slightly bloody bandage he felt much better, if a bit drained. He walked a few times around his room, stretched and finally got into a limp-less rhythm as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen where the others were waiting.

"Whoa you look like crap," Sam gasped, his voice a mix of mockery and worry.

"Is it just me or have the morning greetings gone downhill lately?" Dean asked taking his seat next to the kid.

"Dean sweetie, you feeling okay? John said you didn't sleep much last night, maybe you're coming down with something," Mary placed her hand on his forehead before he grumbled and she took it away.

"M'fine, just tired, can't wait for these exams to be over." _Some people get sick from school stress right? It's seems like a good cover story to me. Especially cos it's kinda right, I am freaking out!_

"Okay, but if you feel off just call us and we'll pick you up."

"We?" Dean asked taking a bite of the lucky charms in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, we've got a meeting today with the social worker so we both took the day off. But if you need us, just call."

Dean nodded, suddenly losing his appetite. He didn't like the damn social worker, hated him in fact, he still wished John would have let him punch the guy a few years ago; he totally deserved it. How someone that wanted to break them apart could be their social worker he didn't know, didn't really want to know.

Usually they kept that kind of talk to a minimum because they knew how pissed Dean got when the subject came up. Those years of adoption papers, meetings, trials and therapists trying to figure out if he was of sound mind to make his own decisions about staying with the Winchester's or being in a foster home weren't exactly... well they pretty much sucked. In fact, most meetings, most shrink visits, left him storming out and pounding his well-worn punching bag when he got home. The worst days when he was damn sure the system was going to claim him, left him crying himself to sleep like a wimp.

A large, gentle hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed, he tried not to wince much as he looked up at John. "Dean, stop worrying kid, they can't take you from us, it's all down in ink and has been for a long time, you ain't going anywhere unless we're behind you. That pompous douche can't do anything."

Dean sighed, he knew that, just didn't like to believe it because one day when he did, maybe someone might think it was funny to let him know otherwise by ripping him from his new life. Needless to say, he still had issues with letting himself be happy.

"Dean what have you got first?" Sam asked changing the subject for him. The left side of his mouth twitched up and Sam knew it was a Dean version of a smile.

"Uh, I'm supposed to have science but they've given us the hour to study before the math test."

"Jeez, haven't they heard of something called too much studying?"

Dean shrugged, he didn't think so, he needed all the damn studying time he could get.

"You'll be fine Dean, I know it, you're better than me at math."

That was such a lie, Sam was like a freakin' math savant, but Dean appreciated the effort anyway because thanks to that kid, he'd gone from monumentally hopeless to sort of okay in school.

After a little more chat, mostly about the football match this weekend, they finished breakfast and Dean was last to return to his bedroom, getting dressed after three bowls of lucky charms. Once deodorant was sprayed, hair spiked, and teeth brushed, he made a quick check of his leg. Locking his door, he cleaned and re-bandaged his wound which, though a bit red and swollen, didn't look as bad as he thought in daylight before coming out of his room, fully dressed with his bag in his hand.

John took both boys to school like he did every day he had off, wished his sons good luck on their tests then drove off.

"Dean are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked unable to take his eyes off of Dean's dark circles and pale cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm fine man."

"You'd tell me if you weren't right?" Sam asked using his puppy eyes making Dean feel like he'd just been kicked in the gut.

"Yeah, course, haven't I always?" Dean forced himself to keep a sincere face that would make a professional con-man proud while his guts twisted with guilt.

Sam nodded strongly, completely convinced and wasn't that just a bitch.

Dean hated lying to the kid, even more than he hated lying to John and Mary. He'd like to say he was keeping his hunting a secret for their sakes, he'd like to, but that would be a total and complete waste of time. Nope, he was hunting for himself, because when he didn't it felt like he was on drugs, going through withdrawal, craving his weakness so bad, and cold turkey wasn't fun. A bit of hunting, something routine (if there was such a thing) was like a nicotine patch, it made the withdrawal of the road, the big guns and the kicking some serious demon ass a bit more bearable. He lied to them partly yes because he knew they would worry, he'd come to terms with the fact that they did care about him for some strange reason a long time ago. But he lied mainly because if they found out, they would make him stop, find every possible way to keep him from going out of the window once or twice a week to go kill something for pleasure, the saving people part, that was just a happy bonus. His hunting nowadays was purely selfish.

"I guess I'll meet you at home time?"

Dean nodded, his math exam just happened to run through the mid morning break, the only time they got to see each other in the whole school day now because of the new system where every class has a different lunch time, something to do with minimising intimidation and bullying on younger classes.

But it although they didn't really get to talk for longer than ten minutes until the three o'clock bell went, the new lunch timetable did have its upsides, Dean couldn't really not eat and save up his lunch money if Sam was around to see.

"Good luck, not that a geek like you needs it," Dean smirked ruffling Sam's hair.

"I would say the same to you but I think I'll pass now jerk."

"Bitch," Dean immediately replied before Sam got serious.

"You sure you're okay?" something just seemed off.

"You really suck at building a guys spirits you know that?"

"You'll do awesome Dean," he smiled, making Dean feel a little better before they both walked their separate ways to their classes.

_Here goes nothing..._

_**TBC...**_

_As always, any suggestions or requests, holler and I'll do my best but no promises!_


	2. It's your decision

_*Smiles very wide!* thank you all so much for the amazing reviews... you have cheered me right up lately when I really needed it! _

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**It's your decision**

Dean had spent the last hour talking to no one, ignoring every lame teenage drama conversation his classmates were having and studied harder than he thought was humanly possible. He didn't know why he bothered, as everything he was trying to hopelessly cram into his brain seemed to dribble out of his ears anyhow. With a sigh he slammed his book shut and waited for the inevitable disaster to begin.

Looking around he couldn't help but notice how much the room resembled a prison. Grey walls, check, dour guards, check, nervous people waiting for their execution, check and check. Smirking to himself he thought that real prison was where he once thought he was doomed to be – maybe he still was - and now he was sitting in his very first exam hall, on a seat he hoped was his. He didn't know why, but whenever a teacher walked past his desk he half expected them to turn around, point and yell '_Out, get out! I know what you are and you don't belong here!' _They'd know he was a fraud_,_ was in the wrong place, an outsider, and wouldn't that just be awesome and smooth for his first ever hard core exam.

When the hairy woman at the front started droning on and finally said something about writing your name on the front of the paper, Dean guessed everyone was in the right seat and he could get on with the exam already.

Within seconds the hall filled with the deafening sounds of pages being opened and pens scratching on paper.

Scribbling a large Dean Turner on the paper he stared at what he had done for a heartbeat before panicking. He wasn't freakin' Dean Turner, he was Dean Winchester now! Or at least that's who he was on paper. Being truthful, he still felt like a guest... well... intruder, at the Winchester household. Two years and he still felt like he didn't belong - he hadn't even told Sam about that one. It was so insulting to the people who had looked after him better in that short time than his own flesh and blood had in seven years. It seemed insulting just wasn't a strong enough word.

He quickly scratched out Turner and wrote Winchester below it. _Friggin' hell! Now they're going to think I'm an idiot before even looking at my stupid answers._ He thought maybe he should write a little note on the side explaining to the examiner but decided against it when he remembered the hairy woman saying something about only using the spaced as instructed, no note making unless it was mathematical otherwise they'd make him stay in school forever or something.

Dean read the first question carefully like Sam told him to. Apparently misreading something is the biggest mistake people make and why some people get so many answers wrong, because they just didn't read the question properly.

Sam wasn't kidding, the first time Dean read the question he was sure it went in one eye and out the other.

**A dog chasing a rabbit, which has a start of 45m, jumps 3m every time the rabbit jumps 2m. In how many leaps does the dog overtake the rabbit?**

_What?_ _Who the hell cares!__ Where the hell is a calculator when you need one? Oh...non calculator__paper...right...super...just my luck..._

Dean began to panic, he tapped his pen on the desk until the guy pacing the tables looked at him funny.

_Okay, if x is the number of jumps then the dog is 3x and the rabbit is 2x.. not that hard... head start is 45... Sam said I could make notes on the paper as well... 3x equals 45 – 2x so... x is 45 __okay, that was easy enough, so I can do it. Next question..._

Dean spent the whole rest of the exam reading, panicking, tapping his pen, then taking a deep breath and forcing himself to figure out the huge stupid numbers slowly just like Sam told him. He knew this stuff, he did, so why couldn't his mind just fucking co-operate. He only needed fifty percent to pass, but he could see his mark sinking with each tick of the clock.

When the bell chimed an hour and half later, just as he scrawled his last answer, he couldn't help the nauseouss feeling in his stomach. He stood up as soon as he was told his row could leave and, despite his leg, sprinted from the hall. He couldn't stand to be there one more second and there was no way he was letting the Winchester's know how stupid he was. And especially not Sam, the kid had faith in him, more than he ever thought possible! And he was sure he had just failed...miserably!

_**SPN**_

Later that day when John picked them both up, Dean was exhausted; who would have thought one exam would be so draining. He clung to the desperate hope that no one would ask him about it. John's first words dashed that particular dream.

"How'd it go boys?" John asked when they both got in the back.

"You first," Dean nudged Sam on the arm, he was proud of his little brother today, and not to mention he was avoiding the subject, if only for a few minutes it was better than nothing.

"Twenty five out of twenty five," Sam smiled. Okay, his was only a progress test in class but that didn't mean it was any less important to anyone.

"Awesome, is it going on the fridge?" John smirked into his mirror as he pulled out of the school gates.

Sam turned a not so subtle shade of pink and the grumble in the back of his throat was even more obvious.

"Damn straight," Dean answered for him before yawning.

"Dude don't swallow me," Sam didn't nudge Dean in the ribs today, he looked a little too off for his usual teasing right now. Something was definitely up with his older brother. He'd noticed it for the last little while but couldn't quite figure out what.

"What about you Dean?"

"We get the results in a few weeks, but I think it went okay," Dean replied cheerfully.

"Good job kiddos."

Sam's eyes narrowed. He'd spent the last two years observing and learning Dean's behaviour, and though his father obviously hadn't noticed, there were enough subtle tells to show that something was definitely up and maybe it wasn't just the test.

"So dad...how did the social worker thing go today?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean's fake happy mood slipped away instantly, only to be slammed firmly back into place. What the hell else could go wrong today?

"Nothing we didn't already know, don't pick on the new kid, keep feeding him, don't spoil him too much. The end."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, thankful beyond belief because he didn't think there was much more he could take. He wasn't sure why, but he was always expecting something else when they talked about those meetings, but with the way John and Mary described them, they seemed pretty boring actually.

"But uh Dean, there was one thing?"

Tiredness over, Dean felt his stomach drop, he knew all good things came to an end sooner or later. He wondered what Harrison, their social worker had to say this time.

"What?" he knew neither John nor Sam missed the crack in his voice.

"Harrison said there's a doctor here in Lawrence interested in your case."

"What case? I'm not sick."

_Okay__,__ maybe I am__,__ but not enough to need a doctor._

"He's a plastic surgeon."

"I think I like my boobs how they are."

"Not that kind of surgeon, he specialises in skin grafts, and is developing new technology to heal scars."

"You mean like the ones on my back?" Dean asked grimly, his eyes going to the floor.

John's expression softened. "Yeah, pretty much son."

"I don't want any surgery," Dean answered before anything else could be said.

"Dean-"

"_I said I don't fucking want any_!"

That was the first time Dean had raised his voice and swore in quite a while and given the subject matter, John let it slide. The kid had every right to be touchy about his scars, but he needed to know this was for his own good.

"Dean, this doctor said unless you have some sort of corrective surgery soon, you could run the risk of severe mobility problems when you're older. I'm talking no movement in your shoulders, in your arms, in your entire back because your skin is so tight. If you could just hear this guy out you might-"

"I don't wanna talk to any doctors!"

"Dean for the love of-"

"No damn it! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice and curse in front of me son!"

Sam kept his head down, maybe then they wouldn't see the tears building in his eyes, he hated when his father yelled, and he hated it even more when it was at Dean, but the thing he hated the most was when they both yelled together. He felt like he had to choose between them or something, his own father vs. his new brother.

"I'm not your damn son! And I can swear all the fuck I like! I said no! It's my life so keep the fuck out!"

"Dean," John growled warningly, looking into his mirror at the purple faced teen.

"What? You gonna ground me? Oh yeah, that'll teach me."

"Dean stop it!"

"What could you possibly do to make me obey you besides a good kick in my ass? You forget I've already lived that life once jackass?"

John's rapidly wearing patience abruptly snapped. "Dean this is for your own good! I thought we could talk about this like adults! But if you wanna walk around being close to paralyzed for the rest of your miserable life, knock yourself out you selfish brat! And if staying under my roof is so damn bad why haven't you left already?"

The only sounds that could be heard was Dean's harsh and ragged breathing, he looked like a wolf ready to kill even as his eyes shimmered too brightly. Sam sank back as far back into his seat as possible without digging a hole into the trunk, fingers unconsciously twining the strap of his book bag, he anxiously glanced between his dad and his brother. As the car pulled up to the drive, John shut off the engine and nobody moved.

"Yeah, I thought so. And, for the record, yes you are grounded now. Before you storm off to your room you can apologize to Sam for ruining his week too."

"Fuck you."

"Make that two weeks. And if I have to drag you kicking and screaming to that doctors office and pin you down while they put you under, I will, no doubt about it, I'll handcuff you to the damn hospital bed if I must."

Sam was the last one in the car after Dean and his father slammed their doors. He was twelve years old and crying alone in the car over a stupid argument that shouldn't have ever happened, didn't even have to happen. His dad shouldn't have said anything, or maybe Dean shouldn't have taken it the wrong way so badly, he wasn't really sure, but he did know he wasn't the one that was going to fix it this time, he was sick of playing piggy in the middle.

When he got in the house his father was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Dean. Scrubbing off the last traces of wetness on his cheeks he wandered into the kitchen.

"Hi honey," his mom looked up from chopping vegetables, with a small smile. "I'd ask how your day was but I just saw two hurricanes blow in so I know how it ended. Your dad's upstairs pacing our bedroom carpet threadbare and Dean's in the garage pounding on his punching bag. What happened sweetie?" Mary asked hating herself for putting the weight on her youngest when he clearly just wanted to be left alone right now, but it wasn't like she was going to get anything out of her other two.

"His test went great," _Apparently_, Sam added secretly, "but then dad told him about that surgeon, Dean said no but dad said he had to listen first before making his mind up...he didn't take it too well, so they got into a huge fight."

"I noticed," Mary winced looking down the hall to the garage door. "You wanna go talk to Dean?"

Sam shook his head, "not really."

She smiled sympathetically then cupped her son's cheek. "If he doesn't come out in half an hour we'll check on him. You want to keep me company while I cook dinner?"

"Okay," Sam nodded, wasn't like he planned on going upstairs anytime soon until his father had cooled off. He took his bag from his shoulder and started on his homework on the kitchen table while his mom turned on the radio and started singing along to an old country song. "Mom, please, my ears are bleeding," Sam whined covering them as a joke.

"Hey, if you just close your eyes you'd think Patsy Cline was in the building."

Sam let himself laugh for just a little before going back to his homework and ignoring the sting of sadness that came with the break in the house. He hoped it would get fixed soon... but Dean was hard headed, and his father was just as bad... so without a referee, good luck on that one.

Half an hour later Dean had yet to come out, so Mary tapped lightly on the garage door and asked if he was okay, when she got no answer she turned the knob and peeked her head through.

"Dean?"

Dean was still pounding hard, the bag swaying on its chains as he hit it; his movements stiff without their usual fluidity. She could just see the side of his face which was still fresh with anger.

"Dean dinner's ready," she tried gently coaxing. "There's pie for desert."

"M'fine, just leave me alone."

"I'll save you some," Mary said firmly before closing the door, next she had a husband to have a little chat with.

_**SPN**_

Mary stood, trying very hard to remain calm, while the love of her life was doing his best to convince her he hadn't been an ass. And she had to give him credit, he was really trying, and he looked so darned cute when he got angry and flustered, but there was no way she was letting him off the hook.

"I was trying to make sure he had all the facts before saying no!"

"So yelling at him, scaring the holy hell out of that poor boy, is going to make him change his mind?"

"Well no, but you know how I am."

"That's your excuse? '_You know how I am,_'?"

"Well you do."

"Yeah I do, and it's about time you changed."

"What? Stop trying to look out for my family?"

"No, stop being so military about it all the damn time! When you don't like an answer you turn into the drill sergeant and order your children around and expect them to do what you say without question? Newsflash John, they're kids, not soldiers!"

"I know that, but does he have to be so hard headed all the time?"

"John, you know his history, he doesn't take well to being pushed, and as for being hard-headed I think he's learning from the best."

"I tried to be reasonable but all he did was curse and yell."

"So you took the mature approach and yelled even louder? Couldn't you have just said 'okay, if that's what you want, we'll drop the subject for now but this is really important, we care about your future and we can discuss it when you're ready'?'"

"That could have worked, probably would have worked... Why didn't I think of that?"

"Look just... your dinners on the table, it'll need warming up."

Mary left the room and hopefully if she stayed upstairs long enough, John would get the message and leave her, as well as everyone else, alone for the night.

_**SPN**_

"_Newsflash John, they're kids, not soldiers!"_

Right through the closed bedroom door on the second floor and down the hall the muffled words floated down the staircase. Sam felt his tears drip off the end of his jaw, he took the foot he set down on the first step off and walked back to the kitchen.

Ripping a sheet from one of his books, he wrote a quick note to his parents telling them he was going for a walk then left the house. Maybe when he came back, just maybe, he would see Dean, his mom and his dad all sitting around the kitchen table, laughing and joking like none of this had ever happened.

It was dark, and above all freezing, but he didn't care, anything was better than in his house right now. When did it all go wrong? Maybe it never went right in the first place...maybe all this just wasn't meant to be. They'd all been happy before...

_**SPN**_

Ignoring his aching shoulder and ribs, Dean tossed his bookbag into the corner of his bedroom and slammed the door. Hastily stripping off his sweaty shirt he moved to the bathroom and splashed some cool water over his face. Damn he couldn't think. There was an angry buzz in his head which wouldn't go away and the few kicks he'd taken on the bag sure hadn't helped his leg any. Shoving away the rational voice in his head that said he needed to think and maybe rest and heal before acting, he saw only Ron's face telling him he was no good.

"Fucking asshole, thinks he can boss me around! For my own good, yeah right, more like ooh look we've taken in some poor stray from the street and look at all these things we've done for him."

Sweeping green eyes upwards made more vivid by being bloodshot, he snarled, hating the face in the mirror, and stalked to the room to get clean clothes.

They weren't doing this for him, they were doing this to make themselves feel good, to make him look perfect, to get rid of his scars like they were an infection rotting their house. Well fuck the lot of them, fuck John for being such a self righteous ass, fuck Sam for being nice, not sticking up for him, telling his dad to shut the hell up, fuck Mary for being so damn perfect it killed him every time he looked at her.

He had survived this long with scars, he could do damn well fine for the rest of his existence with them, however long or short that may be. Aside from not wanting more people sticking their ugly noses into his life, more pity from people who, if given half the chance, he would rip apart with his bare hands, he needed those scars, they made him who he was, they made sure he knew who he was and what he had done. He was stupid to think he ever could or would be anything else.

Dean grabbed his hunting knife and slid it out of its worn scabbard, fingers delicately tracing the sticky sharp edge of the shiny silver blade - he had just honed it to perfection last weekend while the others were out getting groceries. Balancing the sharp tip downwards on the first finger on his other hand he pricked the end causing a dot of blood to rush from the cut. He squeezed his finger hard drawing more sticky red liquid before wiping it on his jacket. He strapped the knife back in its cover and rammed it into his bag, he hoped he got to use more than salt and lighter fluid tonight, he needed to stab something solid, feel the satisfaction of the blood trickling from the blade over his fingers. He wanted to make something scream like he'd once screamed, he wanted to cause pain.

_**TBC...**_

_This was soooooo Samanatha V's idea... and I love it! Thank you darling! _


	3. Blame it upon rush of blood to the head

_I got a review saying Dean was too much what the social workers said he would turn out to be like... hope he's not too insane and you guys understand he's just having a hard time at the moment and dealing with it in the wrong way. X _

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head **

He hoped he got to use more than salt and lighter fluid tonight, he needed to stab something solid, feel the satisfaction of the blood trickling from the blade over his fingers. He wanted to make something scream like he'd once screamed, he wanted to cause pain.

Dean should have known better. As it turns out, he got what he wanted. For some ridiculous reason he kept hearing Sam's voice saying _be careful what you wish for_ as he grappled with the hairy fugly, currently trying to rip his throat out. Sweeping aside dirt and leaves he fumbled his one hand out blindly towards the handle of his knife glittering mockingly in the moonlight.

He wished for a big, ugly, solid monster, he got a full moon and a nice stray werewolf.

He'd found it in the woods, not far from where he had saved Sam from the vampire. It was his favourite hunting grounds and tonight it was also the werewolf's. Its meandering tracks had been easy to follow so he figured it was clearly not from around here given how confused it was. A werewolf always knew its territory, so he thought that this one was either really stupid or lost. Judging by how quickly he found himself pressed with his back grinding against the forest floor, dodging the hot slathering jaws, Dean guessed it was the latter.

He was not exactly in the position he wanted to be in. Having no gun or ammo meant he'd had to rely on stealth to get close enough to use his knife - his big, shiny, silver blade that would cut through the wolf's heart like it was butter... if only getting through its rib cage was as easy.

Ghosting through the low brush, most already bare of leaves, he had glided between the shadows, all actions tight and controlled. Sweet release from all thoughts and failures, aches and pains, nothing but the hunt.

"Come on you fucker! Play time's over!" he grinned once as he lunged out, slicing the tendons behind the wolf's kneecap. Howling in pain and rage the monster momentarily stilled, giving Dean just the time he needed to take his knife and drive it into the creature's chest. Yeah... right, it was only that easy in theory. Reality was a whole different ball game, in reality the wolf ignored its damaged leg and charged the young hunter down to the ground in seconds.

Wickedly curved claws dug deep into his shoulders making Dean cry out while the beast's weight put pressure on his body.

_Holy shit I forgot how sharp those fucking nails were! _The only bright side he could think of right now, at least his mind wasn't blind in pain...only a little clouded.

"You're not...biting...me you...wet mutt!" he stretched away from its blood red teeth, fresh blood... that meant a fresh kill not long ago.

Which is how he found himself desperately reaching a hand out to search for his knife that had been knocked from his hand in the pounce attack. When he found it, his enraged growl gave the werewolf a good run for its money. Fingertips finally brushing around the cold handle he crawled his fingers around it, threaded his arm under the belly of the wolf jammed the blade upwards, he didn't care where he hit, as long as it got the wet dog off his chest, they were damn heavy for mutated humans. Judging by the wet spray that gouted across his face and clothes he'd hurt it bad.

The wolf whimpered and rolled from on top of him, it sounded part human in its cries, part dog, and to any unfortunate passersby, it would have sounded like a rather large baby crying out for its mother. Thrashing it tumbled to lie motionless amongst the dry twigs and leaves.

Trembling from the fear and adrenaline, Dean pushed himself up "I'm gonna hang your head on my trophy wall, you fucker!"

Angrily he swiped at the blood on his face, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and wave of dizziness as he stood up. The sound it had made had unsettled him and he had to remind himself it was evil therefore it deserved to die, who cared what it once was. It was also a hell of a lot hairier than werewolves he'd come across in the past and a lot smellier, no wonder poor dogs got compared to these things, they had a lot in common despite the wolfs being more of a two legged mammal than myth suggested.

"Holy shit! "Dean!"" he heard some kid in shock... but there was hardly fear there, strange, he sounded an awful lot like... Dean wasn't sure; past the pain and past the blind fury, he saw everything, heard everything and yet was blind and deaf to all but the prey before him.

A low snarl like the buzz of a chainsaw was the only warning Dean had as the wounded werewolf exploded out towards him.

Dean ignored Sam, barely knew he was there in fact, as he tightened his hand around his blade and went for the wolf much like it had done to him not minutes ago. Using his momentum he pivoted the monster onto its back and with all his weight on the animal pinning it down to the ground, he drove his knife deep into the slowly beating heart. There was a crunch of bone, the gurgle of blood and finally, a steady trickle on the end of his knife... All was silent except for his harsh breathing and the pounding of his own heart in his ears – a cold satisfaction for a job well done settled through him as he felt the adrenaline rush start to ebb.

He pulled the dripping blade out and staggered to his feet.

"D-Dean?" someone called from behind him with a hand on his back. Snarling he spun and brought his knife up again. "Whoa! It's me! Sam! Dean it's me put the fucking thing down!" Sam backed away quickly, a werewolf he wasn't scared of, but this crazy killer in front of him was terrifying.

"Sam?"

His little brother was relieved to see reason return to Dean's eyes.

"What... the hell... are you... doing here?" Dean asked breathing heavy, both with shock that he nearly impaled his brother and the rush of rawness from the bleeding holes in his shoulders.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Sam yelled.

Dean smirked... "You cursed, your dad would ground you for a lifetime if he heard that coming out of your mouth again."

"Dean what the hell?" Sam was not in the mood for Dean's wise cracks and avoiding the subject shit tonight!

"What? The werewolf?" Dean looked over his shoulder at the dead mutt, poor guy, too bad he turned into a walking talking slaughterhouse several times a month.

"No, you being out here with all alone with your knives hunting a frickin' werewolf! I thought my parents put all that stuff away when you promised you wouldn't do this anymore?"

"Like I gave them every weapon I owned. I'm smart enough to know to keep a few for emergencies."

"So this was just an emergency? You just happened to go for an armed walk and accidentally bumped into a werewolf?"

"If I say yes would you stop with twenty questions?"

"_Dean_!" Sam yelled, he was so pissed off right now!

"Alright, fine, I was... I was mad and I wanted something... I don't know what I wanted but I just happen to end up here, with my knife in my hand, and really smelly dog charging after me, okay?"

"So you did walk out of the house intending to hunt something?"

"... yeah... but this is the first time since my... since R-, since him, I swear Sam. This was just a onetime thing, I was mad, I just needed _something_..."

"What? To get yourself killed?" Sam snapped, Dean wasn't being straight with him, he knew it!

"No, I wouldn't have brought my knife if I wanted to try and kill myself." Dean was smirking again, despite the pain. _No, scratch that, agony, with a side order of gut __w__re__n__ching guilt, no salad with that thanks._

"We need to call Steve, he can get rid of this," Sam tried hard not to look at the body in front of him.

"I can do that," Dean said trying to be helpful. "It needs to be salted and burned..."

"You're bleeding, and you can barely stand," Sam commented dryly looking at the blood pooling on both his shoulders. Sure Dean was wearing black, but Sam could see in the bright moonlight his shoulders were wet and sticky where holes were ripped in the thick fabric.

"I'm fine," Dean replied as he crossed his arms across his chest and pressed his hands to the wounds to stem the blood flow.

"I'll call Steve when we get back home."

Dean sighed, he was busted anyway, might as well use the resources he had to save him a job.

They worked together to move the werewolf to a safer hiding place that would do until Steve could get there, make a convincing story and clear the body a lot more thoroughly than Dean could on his own.

"You're a real idiot you know that."

"You're bedside manner sucks."

Sam didn't speak after that as they both made their way from deep in the woods back to the house, he only watched out of the corner of his eye to make sure he didn't sway too far from the side walk onto the road.

"Sam?"

Sam looked his way with a glare in a silent, 'what?'

"What were you doing there? You know you're not supposed to be in the woods after what happened last time."

"Don't start lecturing me on things I'm not meant to do, you hypocrite."

"Okay, sorry I asked."

"Good."

_What crawled up his ass and died? _Dean thought to himself as he continued to stare at his little brother who looked pissed as hell, and sounded even worse.

"Sammy, seriously, what-"

"First, it's Sam, I'm not a little kid anymore, and second, my parents were arguing, my mom sounded close to slapping my dad and it was all over you and this stupid surgery. I wanted to get outta the house, take a walk, then I heard someone sounding an awful lot like you screaming so I went to check it out."

"So it looks like I'm not the only idiot."

"I'm learning from the best, now shut up, you're supposed to save your strength in these circumstances, not talk yourself and others to death."

"Dude it's just a scratch."

"Whatever jerk."

"Bitch," Dean grinned, he thought it was back to joking time... Sam's face said differently.

_**SPN**_

"What are you doing?" Sam whispered into the night air as Dean started to walk around the side of the house as he went to the front.

"I'm not gonna walk through the front door like this you moron!" Dean whispered just as harsh back as he motioned to his blood spattered clothes and 'scratched' shoulders. "I'm grounded long enough."

"Yeah, well who's fault will it be if that time's extended."

"Look would you just help me get into my bedroom and we can talk about this tomorrow, I'm tired man."

Dean looked positively dead on his feet; he looked like crap physically, ready to either sob or scream emotionally. Sam gave in and helped Dean through the window before climbing up himself.

Dean locked his bedroom door and pushed the chair under the handle for good measure before he peeled off his jacket. He hissed as it pulled on his claw marks and was grateful when Sam helped him out, his expression a little less hard than it was a few minutes ago.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Sam asked, his little brother concerned tone back in its rightful place as he watched Dean bite his lip through the pain of getting his shirt and tee off.

"No, but... at least they don't look bad enough to need stitches. Few aspirin and I'll be good as new."

"I hope so."

Dean nodded a thank you, then stood from his bed to get his first aid kit or rather tried to. Sitting quickly back down while the greying of his vision mercifully receded he covered by pretending to make himself more comfortable.

"Could you get me my pencil case from the middle drawer?" he asked Sam as he bit deeper into his lip. Shit, the gouges didn't look good, but not too bad either; at least the bleeding had almost stopped. The worst gaped open slightly, but he couldn't manage stitches with where they were so he'd just have to make do. What's a few more scars anyway.

Sam frowned but did as requested, he handed Dean the case before sitting back down next to him. When it was opened he realised what it was, bandages, pills, peroxide... yup, Dean was good, but this was another sign he was prepared for more than just the one hunt.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his supplies. "Come on man, it's embarrassing asking your mom for first aid stuff, she practically wanted to kiss my knee better when I fell off my bike that time, this makes things so much easier."

Dean was good, he was lying out of his ass, but he was good.

"Okay, I'm gonna go called Steve." Sam was also good, so good Dean was convinced Sam was convinced. He called his uncle, told him about the dead fury fiend in the woods, where they hid it, and sorry they were out late in that particular woods yet again. But Dean was shocked when he heard Sam ask Steve to promise not to mention this to his parents, because they would flip out.

"_Okay kiddo, but you have swear to me there'll be no midnight killing sprees for you or Dean."_

"It was an accident, we didn't mean to-"

"_Sam_?"

"We promise, thanks Uncle Steve."

"_Bye Sam."_

Sam ended the call and looked back at Dean who was having major trouble cleaning out his wounds by himself.

"You need help?" Dean nodded, couldn't hurt, in fact, might help things.

"Thanks for not telling him the whole story."

"You mean thanks for lying for you?"

"Well... yeah."

"You're not welcome."

"Ah! Watch it man!" he winced when Sam pressed on his right shoulder hard with peroxide soaked gauze. This was totally pay back.

"Sorry," Sam said, not sounding it at all.

"I repeat, your bedside manner sucks ass."

"I repeat, it's your own stupid fault."

Sam finished helping Dean. Awkwardly he taped some bandages on his shoulders and packed the stuff away just as he found it in Dean's drawer.

"Thanks Sam," Dean said sincerely, this wasn't just a thanks for patching me up, this was a thanks for everything, and I'm sorry about the rest.

"Just don't do anything stupid again okay? Please Dean?"

"I won't... thanks for watching my back man."

"You're welcome... now go to sleep, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam moved the chair back under the desk, unlocked the bedroom door and went to crawl out Dean's window. It wasn't crazy late, so if he went through the front door it would still look like he'd just been on a long walk, and Dean had been in his room the whole time. For Dean's sake he hoped it worked, his parents might be pissed at him for lying, and for who knows how long, but Dean had enough to deal with right now. John and Mary finding out Dean had returned to his extracurricular activities could wait a few weeks.

"Night Dean..."

"Night Sammy."

Sam didn't correct him this time... just slipped from the window and crossed his fingers as he made his way round the house.

Quietly creaking open the front door, he eased it shut and ghosted towards the stairs hoping to slip up to his room without a fuss.

"Where have you been?"

_**TBC...**_


	4. Tornado meets a volcano

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Tornado me****e****ts a volcano**

"Where have you been?"

Sam froze with his foot on the bottom of the stairs. Twisting to face his father he kept his expression hard, he wanted to make sure his father knew he was mad - at him! He didn't want to play the puppy eyes or the 'sorry I didn't realise how late it was', he wanted to make sure his dad felt guilty and responsible for his late night stroll.

"I didn't wanna hear any more of you and mom fighting, so I went for a walk."

"Sam, do you realise what time it is?"

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure you and mom were done when I came back. I wasn't going to walk back in the house mid cat and dog fight."

"You do remember what happened last time you went for a walk alone in the dark don't you?"

"Yeah, what, were you afraid something was gonna get me? Don't worry dad, there's nothing evil out there unless you count Mrs. Bakers cat." _Trust me, Dean makes sure of it._

"Don't take that tone with me Samuel, I'm not in the mood tonight."

"I'm not the one with the attitude problem, why can't you just be patient? None of this had to happen, if you could have just talked to Dean differently none of this would be happening right now."

John was taken aback, he didn't realise how hard all this had been on his youngest. If only Sam was like every other twelve year old, oblivious and blissfully ignorant, but he wasn't, Sammy was too damn smart for his own good sometimes.

"Sam I'm sorry, I know I messed up... this sounds like a broken record I know kiddo, and I'm sorry, and I know I should be saying it to Dean too..." John walked to his son still standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just sick of all the mess in our house, why can't we just be normal and happy? Why do we have to have social services messing everything up? And doctors and stupid therapists asking too many questions and sticking their noses into our lives? Why can't we just be left alone?"

"One day Sammy, we will be, no more social services meetings, no more doctors, I promise you kiddo."

Sam nodded, he hoped that was true, Dean would be a lot happier when that happened... maybe there'd be less hunting and less fights and more football games and picnics in the park.

"Can I go to bed now?"

John squeezed his son's shoulder once more before letting him go off to bed, he'd check on him in half an hour or so to make sure he wasn't crying himself to sleep.

Little did he know... Sam wasn't the only one that might be doing that very same thing tonight.

Dean hugged his pillow close to his face and tried to ignore the burning sting lying on his side caused to his new cuts and bruises as tremors ran through him and tears spilled from his eyes.

He was a total fuck up, he knew that, but today proved how much of a fuck up he truly was, he didn't even have to try. His uncle was right, he didn't deserve anyone caring about him, he either got them killed, or messed up their lives royally, he wasn't sure which one was worse at this point.

He'd lied to Sam, the kid was just being concerned, and he had tossed it back in his face with a sick smirk as well. Then he screamed and almost decked John when again, he was just trying to look out for him. He'd been a jerk to Mary, the sweetest fucking woman on the damn planet. He'd caused a huge fight between the folks, upset Sam even more in the process, almost got the kid killed, AGAIN! Then told lie above lie again, pushing Sam as far away as possible when again, all it seemed like he wanted to do was look out for him. All this in less than twelve hours... this was good, even by his usual standards, today he should be proud.

Sam was right... tonight was a mission of suicide, he didn't go out there to die but... close enough. Maybe on the next hunt, he'd be man enough to forget his knife and do everyone a favour and let some monster rip him limb from limb, slowly. A creature or spirit like that shouldn't be too hard to find, Kansas was said to be the most haunted state on the map.

Next he heard is door creak open, _why did Sam have __to leave it unlocked__?_

"Dean? Bud you awake?"

It was a dead giveaway he was, he'd been crying like a girl loud enough despite trying to muffle his sobs in his bed sheets.

He sniffled but didn't say anything, his back was facing the door and he hoped John wouldn't come any closer.

"I'm so sorry kiddo, I know I... I said the wrong the thing this afternoon, I know I did, but I can promise you it came from a good place, I didn't intend to scare you or make you feel threatened, I just wanted you to understand the risks of... well you know what I'm getting at."

John had walked to the side of the bed, where Dean's back was facing, and pressed what he thought was a comforting hand on his shoulder. Unfortunately, he chose right where the deepest and most painful gash was and Dean pushed down the scream and squeezed his eyes impossibly shut in agony.

The tensing of muscles and barely perceptible flinch was enough for John to sense his presence wasn't welcome and he reluctantly took his hand away. Dean was glad John obviously couldn't feel the bandages under the thick sweater he'd put on to hide them.

"Stay the fuck away from me," Dean mumbled with a hiccup on the end he didn't intend to let out.

He didn't hear John sigh, he just heard his door being pulled shut carefully.

He let out the sob he'd been holding in, didn't care how loud he cried now, they knew he was crying, and they knew to leave him alone... but they didn't know why, and he hoped they never would, he cared too much about them to let them offer to carry the some weight he had, he just couldn't do that to them.

_**SPN**_

_Okay, ow._

Dean breathed the pain as he rolled onto his other side and grabbed the pills in his top drawer, he didn't care there was a lack of water, the sooner they got working, the better. He swallowed two of them dry then took a glance at his clock.

_11:32am... shit!_

If this was any other day he would have jumped out of bed and ran from the house half dressed with a bowl of cereal in one hand and his school bag in the other... but he couldn't move anything above his damn toes, his body was just one sore lump of throbbing agony.

After some debating with himself, he got out of bed slowly and made good progress when he reached his door, yeah that only took about seven minutes to make it a couple of feet.

His breathing was off, his legs weren't cooperating at all, and his head was spinning, yup, it was official, last night's hunt sucked.

_Okay, so maybe I'll skip school today. Not like it matters anyway._

Taking his first aid kit he made his way to the downstairs bathroom, luckily just across from his bedroom, he checked his shoulders and found himself partially satisfied. Though the gashes were red and swollen, there was no infection by the looks of things - Sam did a good job. So it was just the searing burning of the wounds that were making him dizzy. Cleaning and reapplying fresh bandages he thought that finally, something had gone right; pain was easy to get over on your own, in time, infections without antibiotics, not so much.

When he left the bathroom after taking a leak and splashing some water on his face, the circles under his eyes so dark and skin so pale he hardly recognized himself. Giving himself a mental shake he returned to his room to get dressed and made a note to empty the garbage in the bathroom so no one would find the bandages. Moving closer to the wall to put away his first aid kit he could just hear the muted sound of John's rumbling voice on the phone in the study and he didn't sound like he was having the jolliest of conversations.

Quietly he made his way outside the door and leaned against the wall to better listen. Yeah good old Uncle Ron hadn't exactly raised him right.

"Because that's not how it works okay?"

Dean frowned, that was John's 'I'm pissed but I still have my phone voice on,' tone.

"Yes I understand that but he just needs more time."

_Who's __'__he__'__? Sam? Me? Someone __at__ the shop?_

"No, Mr. Harrison, that's not necessary-"

_Okay, it's about me, oh joy._

"Since when do plastic surgeons make house calls?"

_Well this just gets better... __what the hell is a doc going to say if they come see me now__? _

"Listen to me, if you send that damn Nip Tuck asshole to my house, I'll be reporting you personally to the damn head of CPS for attempted blackmail, he's sixteen, he can make his own choices, and he's still dealing with a lot so we're not gonna force him into anything just so you can earn employee of the year status. This is Dean's decision, when he's ready to make it we'll call you."

The phone was slammed down, a loud ching and clunk of plastic rang out and Dean took that as his cue to leave.

"Morning kiddo, you want some breakfast?" He had heard the soft brush of clothes outside the door and guessed who might be out there. He was sort of glad, maybe it would get him some points back if Dean knew he was on his side in all this.

Busted, Dean walked into the doorway and shook his head, he couldn't talk, everything he said and did was wrong, wrong, wrong... at this point, the less he said, the less amount of trouble he could cause - he'd fucked up enough. They didn't deserve this!

"You wanna go back to bed? You look pretty tired."

Dean shook his head once more, sure he was exhausted, but when wasn't he lately?

"Dean, I really am sorry, I know I scared you, I can understand if you don't trust me anymore but... I can promise you I would never intentionally hurt you or cause you pain. We're gonna forget about all this until you're ready."

Dean didn't nod, or shake his head or even shrug, he just lowered his eyes to the floor and made his way back to his bedroom silently. He couldn't stand the man's apologies anymore, they always ended up making him feel like the guilty one, which yeah, he was but... he was tired of feeling guilty.

_**SPN**_

Dean skipped another couple of days off school, he didn't leave the house because of his shoulders and his leg he'd slowly made worse with his punching bag and hunting injured. But John and Mary let him skip because he just looked so damn sad. In fact, he didn't look sad, he looked clinically depressed. He hadn't spoken a word since his, "stay the fuck away from me," to John, not even to Sam who had tried every trick he knew to get Dean to talk, but not one word had left Dean's lips, _not one_.

If people could hear the stuff going on in his head, he would be committed in a second, he knew without a doubt. A therapist had prescribed anti-depressants once. He'd tossed them in the trash the second he got home and made the Winchester's very aware he didn't plan on taking any damn happy pills if you paid him. They stood by and fought on his side and never once lost their ground, not with doctors, not with therapists, not with the god damn judge's of Kansas, but that was who they were, Dean loved them more than anything for it but it was time he dealt with his problems on his own, they had done enough, they had done too much.

He tried to distract himself with studying but the letters were just a jumble on the page. His mind was dark before, but three days of silence, three days of no one to talk to but his own miserable self made him feel like a walking talking black hole of wanting to bail on everything.

_**SPN**_

The next day Dean had set his alarm clock, he was going to school, he owed them that much.

Despite his melt down, he still had his history exam to take, which should be easy enough that even he couldn't fuck it up, and you didn't have to speak for that anyhow. For the rest of the day, at worst, he might end up getting detention for not answering teachers when they spoke to him or asked him to answer a question. Despite being the student everyone knew not to talk to, let alone mess with, he would get classmates nagging at him, not necessarily asking him what was wrong but definitely '_what the hell is with you? Freak!_' But who cares? He could always punch them in the face; a broken nose tended to shut a person up. Jack Wright learned that a couple of years ago the hard way and since then the whole class pretty much stayed out of his way, for the most part at least.

"You're up early sweetie."

_No, actually I never went to bed...I don't think._

She put two sliced of bread in the toaster and Dean hung around for a few minutes until it popped up and was handed to him on a plate.

"Eat up." Dean had noticed on about the second day of silence Mary had chosen the 'act and talk naturally' rout, where as John had opted to stay out of his way at every opportunity, but then when you yell 'stay the fuck away from me,' you couldn't exactly blame the person for doing as you said, or their best attempt anyway.

Dean didn't shrug his shoulders anymore either, he just grabbed the plate him and left for his bedroom to eat it and get ready for school in the privacy of his bedroom - a room that was getting smaller every passing second he spent in it.

Passing John in the hall, he ignored the tight smile sent his way and closed the door on his face. Sitting down on the edge of his bed he slumped over and fought hard against the hollowness he felt inside. Maybe they would get sick of him and send him off packing, then he couldn't trouble them anymore and they wouldn't have to feel guilty about it because he was being a classic ass and deserved it. Maybe they would be better off without him.

There was a knock at his door so he lifted his head and waited to see who it was.

"Dean, I'm sorry." It was Sam, barging in his room blurting the word sorry out like it was the last word left in existence, but no other had made a dint in Dean's cold expression, until now.

_What the hell's he sorry for? _

"I don't know what else to do, what else to say, I must have done something wrong, I'm not sure what I did, but whatever it is, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

_Oh, super, you're meant to be making the kid angry at you, and instead you make him feel like shit, bang up job Dean, the one thing you used to be good at, you can't even do that anymore._

"What did I do?" Sam asked, wait, no, pleaded, begged, close to getting down on his freakin' knees and sobbing.

_Nothing kid, you didn't do anything. _Shaking his head he absently started munching on his toast though it may as well have been cardboard to him.

Sam sighed, then left, feeling worse than when he came in, if that was even possible. He didn't have a freakin' clue anymore, after two years, Dean felt like a complete stranger to him now.

Returning to his room, Sam finished getting ready for school and was surprised when he went to the door with his backpack that Dean was there waiting with his. He smiled, thought they were making progress, but the look in Dean's eyes said anything but. His smile sunk and they left the house with Mary in tow who drove them to the gates before waving them off.

After a long boring day at school, Sam couldn't tell what it was that any of his teachers had talked about. All he had done was stare out the window or doodle and wonder what had gone so wrong. By the time the final bell rang he felt hopeless. Sam went his own way without bothering Dean anymore, what was the point, nothing worked.

_**SPN**_

"Dean? Did you hear me?"

_Yes, I'm not deaf thanks; I'm just choosing to ignore you._

"Is there something wrong young man?" his history teacher pressed when his face showed no indication he had even heard him. "Dean?" he sounded worried now, he didn't sound irritated that he was being ignored, he sounded genuinely concerned over the catatonic student at the back of his class, Dean hated that.

Another pupil sitting at the desk at the side of him waved a hand in front of his face while frowning, Dean's reflexes were so fast, no one saw him grab the extended limb and twist it in such a way that one tug would rip the poor kids arm out of his socket.

"What the hell's your problem?"

Dean glared at the kid then let go before returning to his still stance.

After a few seconds of silence, the class carried on as though Dean didn't exist, which is exactly how he liked it. It was easier to be forgotten if people pretended you weren't there.

The rest of Dean's classes were pretty much the same. Most of his teachers didn't notice his odd manner because honestly, it wasn't that different to his usual, and the ones that did liked to think his freaky behaviour wasn't their problem. He'd only gotten thrown out of one class just before lunch for not reading his answer when told to, the rest of his day he was just blanked or sniggered at. During his exam in the afternoon no one cared because they were all supposed to be quiet anyway.

He did plan to meet Sam outside the gate at their usual place like he did every day, but today he found himself walking in the freezing rain alone. He had deliberately taken the wrong turns at every opportunity, it was pitch black and he was soaked by the time he'd made it back home.

He was greeted with the sight of Mary pacing in the living room and Sam rocking himself on the sofa.

_Okay what the hell is going on?_

"Jesus Dean!" He didn't know that Mary's voice to could reach that high.

_What have I done now?_

"Do you know how worried we've been?" Mary started before Dean rolled his eyes and left mid motherly rant for his room.

The house was pretty silent for the rest of the evening, Sam had called his dad and told him Dean was back home and safe, Mary had made dinner and left some by his doorway. Her patience was clearly running out because he didn't even get a 'honey, pie is waiting outside,' it was just a sharp knock before even sharper footsteps faded away.

Why did he have to always muck it up and ruin everything they built for him?

_**SPN**_

Friday, Mary has finally snapped. John had said something about going to a football game with Steve and she flipped. He was going to leave his broken house to go out with his friend, get drunk, stare at some slutty cheerleaders and have an awesome time while she stayed at home cooking dinner, cleaning and looking after two sons who were disappearing right before their eyes.

The argument started off about football, and ended up with every issue the Winchester's had collected over the last god knows how many years. Pretty soon there was no place in the house where you could escape the sounds of their yelling.

Dean heard Sam sniffling in the bathroom alone while John and Mary were playing battling opposites in the living room.

He sneaked out and made his way to his kid brother across the hall, glad Sam hadn't put the lock on. Dean crouched down in front of him where he was cramped between the sink and the wall. Sam was a mess, his eyes were wet and red and all that could be heard over the yelling was his soft sobs. Dean tugged Sam from the tight space, pulled his head to his shoulder before he wrapped his arms around the kid and whispered sorries for all his life was worth.

This was all his fault, what the hell had he done?

Sam clung to his shirt and only when the fight finally cooled down, or rather, John left the house, did he stop crying.

"It's gonna be okay Sammy," he promised, he was going to make it okay.

Giving the kid a final hug and pat on the shoulder, he slipped back out of the bathroom as silent as he entered and went back to his bedroom to stare blindly out the window.

Finally rousting himself from his thoughts, decision made, he moved sluggishly to do what he knew had to be done. Just as he sat down at his desk and let out a long sigh, Dean's door came bursting open, almost off its hinges, and Mary looked pissed.

She dropped his freshly washed clothes on the end of his bed with a thud he didn't know fabric could make. Just as she was about to leave, she looked up at him and saw something that only made her blood boil all the more.

Dean swallowed his building fear, okay a punch he could handle, this woman slapping him across the cheek, metaphorically or otherwise, he could not, and it sure looked like it was heading that way.

"How can we possibly help you through anything if you don't let us in? Dean, we're reaching the end of our rope. If you won't talk to us then you're going to have go talk to somebody, anybody, but for the love of god, just speak!"

She sighed, frustrated, upset, pissed as hell before she left again, slamming Dean's door behind her.

Although too late, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out as his rattling door frame quieted. He didn't want to hurt these people, he really didn't, they meant more to him than anybody ever had in most of his life, but everything he did seemed to do just that. If possible, his stomach plummeted even further.

His uncle Ron said that he always managed to hurt innocent people and now he'd truly fucked up an entire family beyond repair... this was all his fault and he would fix it... before it was too late.

_**TBC...**_

First: I know this was a big angst fest, yup... I know! I wrote it! Sorry if you don't like it but I kinda love this chapter! Hope you do too!

Second: Please send some love, I need it! Its results day tomorrow and I know I've failed so I need some cheering up, I'm not being pessimistic, I just _know_! Like I know the earth revolves around the sun. I've failed, going to be repeating the year, I've accepted it but it's still kinda upsetting and I need some peeps to make me smile... can anyone help me? _*puppy eyes!*_


	5. All these things that I've done

_**For those who I didn't get the chance to tell, I passed my psychology! OMG! Thanks' for all the support you guys, it means the world to me! *group cyber hug!***_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**All these things that I've done**

He had truly fucked up an entire family beyond repair... this was all his fault.

Dean's mind was made up, he had to leave – now!

He waited until there was silence in the house, Sam had gone back upstairs and Mary had gone back to her cleaning before he walked to his closet and started grabbing random clothes and shoving them in his school bag. He snatched the newly washed underwear and socks from the end of his bed and stuffed them in his backpack too before collecting a few other things he might need like his first aid kit, salt just in case. Lastly he picked up his moms old pendant which he still kept in a small jewellery box Mary gave him the first Christmas he spent with them.

Once he'd gone across the hall to the bathroom and collected his toothbrush he went back to his room, grabbed the nearest pen and piece of paper and scribbled the only thing he could think to write.

"**Gone to stay at a friend's house for a few days, don't worry about me, I'll call.**

**-Dean." **

Simple, to the point, and addressed the very thing they always did when he took off, it specifically told them not to freak this time and he wouldn't disappear off the face of the earth. It told them he would let them know he was okay, which he would, when he found the guts to and some change for a pay phone.

Leaving the note in the middle of his perfectly made bed, he grabbed the few bucks he had left from the last few days of not eating lunch, put his bag on his back despite the sting it gave his still healing shoulder, then pushed the window open, slid through, and landed on the ground perfectly silent.

He closed the window after himself, walked to the back of the garage and unchained his bike then climbed on helmetless as usual and sped down the road, hopefully he would be in Texas before they even noticed he was gone.

_**SPN**_

"M-mom?" Sam asked finally gathering the courage to go see if his mom was okay. It had taken him a couple of hours but he was standing outside his parent's bedroom door and doing his best to be helpful right now.

"Yeah baby?" she asked, her voice still rough with tears, the sniffles Sam heard told him she hadn't done crying yet which felt like a knife plummeting through his torso.

"Do you need anything?" he asked carefully considering his next set of words.

He could see she was smiling now, "No Sammy, I'm fine sweetheart." Sam was about to walk away, taking his cue when his mom stood from her bed, walked to the door and wrapped her arms around her son. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it."

"It's okay if you did, but we're never ungrateful, I'm sorry if you thought _I was_." Yep, Sam heard his mom screaming at his dad, telling him how ungrateful he was sometimes, how she did everything for her family and got barely anything in return.

"No I don't honey, I was just angry and worried, it came out wrong, everything will be better before you know it."

"You sound like dad..."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, her smile still in place.

"No but... I just want everything to go back to how it was, I don't want it to get better, I want it to be like before."

"I know Sammy," she kissed the top of his head then after a few minutes of listening to each other's breathing, they both pulled away. "I'm just gonna go check on Dean okay?" she hadn't exactly been the nicest of people when she'd barged into his room earlier.

Sam nodded, and followed along, he had some apologizing to do there too. He hadn't really been supportive lately of his foster brother and maybe that was why Dean was so old-Dean lately, he hadn't been there for him to talk to, he needed to be again. Dean had just made his day with the hug, hopefully he could return the favour.

It was awfully quiet when they got downstairs, each of them looked at the other both saying the same thing in that single glance, something was up.

"Dean?" Mary asked before Sam got the chance. She knocked lightly then opened his door scared of what they would find, her worst fears realized when all she saw was the curtains drifting in the cold breeze from the slightly open window and a very empty room with a note on the bed.

Sam picked it up as Mary closed the window fully.

"Dean's gone..." Sam breathed, which was strange because in that very moment Sam felt like all his oxygen had been taken.

Mary rushed back to stand at Sam's side who was holding the note in a shaky hand. She read the note to herself, before reading it again, then reading it aloud for good measure.

"Gone to stay at a friend's house for a few days, don't worry about me, I'll call, Dean."

She ran from the room and was straight on the phone, Sam knew she was calling his dad, she might yell, she might cry, but bottom line, Dean was gone, and Sam knew he wasn't at a friend's for a 'few days.' Dean had left for good and if they didn't find him fast, he wouldn't be coming back.

_**SPN**_

Dean took a deep breath as he knocked, he probably shouldn't be doing this but he didn't know what else to do, he couldn't stay with the Winchester's right now, definitely not. Pulling his jacket more tightly around him while he waited, looking out at the dark, he couldn't quite believe the deep ache of loneliness he already felt. It had taken only a half hour of riding out of town before he realized he didn't want to be on his own either, so he turned back around. After a bit of thinking, this house seemed to be the only option; he had to stay somewhere familiar until he got himself together.

Steve opened the door, he had a welcoming smile on his face for mere seconds before he noticed something was up. He frowned at the pale, wiped out looking kid in his doorway and was about to ask what was wrong, why was he there without Sam in tow, when Dean answered for him.

"Can I stay here for a while?" he sounded ashamed, embarrassed for even having to ask.

"Uh, sure kid, what happened?" he asked moving so Dean could come inside, he looked down his driveway for a second to see if anyone was there before closing the door and walking to his couch where Dean had sat himself. "What happened?" he didn't think for a split second John would hurt Dean, but right now that seemed to be the only possible explanation for Dean being so obviously close to tears on his sofa right now. He knew they were having some issues lately but it can't have gotten this bad, John would have said something.

"I just... I messed up, and I think I should just stay away from them for a while," if Dean wasn't crying before, he definitely was now. His elbows rested on his thighs and his head was inching further down between his knees as the seconds went on.

"Do they know you're here?" he asked leaning on the armrest of his couch fighting every damn instinct he had to hug the kid.

There was a badly hidden sniffle before Dean cleared his throat. "I left them a note."

"Saying?"

"I was at a friend's."

"So they don't know you're here?"

"Not technically," Dean shrugged.

"You know I'm gonna have to call them right?" Steve pushed from the arm rest and sat down next to Dean.

"I thought you would but kinda hoped you wouldn't."

"Look, I'll just tell them you're here and you're fine and they don't have to bother coming around so long as you tell me what the hell happened."

Dean shrugged again, and although Steve couldn't see his face from under the hands he was now hiding behind, he took that as an acceptance to the deal.

He dialled the number for the Winchester home and waited, it was picked up by a frantic Mary after just 2 rings.

"_John? Did you find him?"_

"Uh no, Mary it's me."

"_Steve, Dean's missing, he left us a note and I know police policy is waiting twenty four hours with a kid Dean's age but I'm worried he's going to do something stupid, especially after-"_

"Mary slow down, he's here, he's a little shaken up but he's perfectly okay."

"_Oh thank god, okay I'm coming-"_

"No, wait, let me finish, Dean's here, but I think it'll be best just for a few days if he stays here, I don't know what's going on but it sounds like you guys need some breathing space, he can stay here in my spare room for as long as he needs, it's no problem, really."

There was a sigh, one of Mary's guilty sighs, before she spoke again, _"please just tell me he's okay?"_

"Yeah Mary, he's fine, come on let's just look at the positive, at least this time he didn't try to run away to China, he did the smart thing and stayed close to home."

"_Can I talk to him?"_

Dean looked up, he had obviously heard that, his eyes were pleading as he shook his head.

"He's in the shower right now," Steve lied, not to happy about it but Dean sagged in relief. "I'm pretty sure he'll be close to passing out when he gets out so... how about I tell him to call you tomorrow when everyone's had a good night's sleep and some time to think."

"_Okay, just... look after him, please."_

"You know I will."

"_Steve?"_

"Yeah?"

"_He... he likes Lucky Charms for breakfast."_

"Lucky Charms, got it."

There were some rustling on the other side of the line, by the young voice he could tell it was Sam speaking, he couldn't hear much but, by the sounds of the tone, the kid was upset as hell.

"_Sam wants to talk to you."_

'_Sam,'_ Steve mouthed to Dean before waiting for the phone to be passed.

"_Uncle Steve?"_

"Yeah kiddo, it's me."

"_Is Dean really okay?"_

"Well, he's about as okay as you'd expect," Steve answered truthfully looking down at the hunched, broad shoulders of the still desperately young teen in his living room.

"_Uncle Steve... watch out for nightmares."_

"Okay, promise I will."

"And... make sure he cleans his shoulders good," Sam whispered the last part so softly Steve barely caught it. He frowned at the bizarre warning but Sam had hung up before he could ask anything more from him.

He ended the call on his end too, set his phone down on the receiver then sat back down next to Dean on the couch.

"You alright?"

Dean was half way through nodding when fresh tears stung his eyes and reluctantly he just shook his head in shame.

"That was my best impression of a con man. I think it went it pretty well, so now you wanna tell me what's going on over there that's so bad you'd rather spend the night in my spare room?"

"It's stupid."

"If it's making you this upset it can't be."

"It was just a dumb fight."

"This about the scars?" Steve guessed. John told him about that, told him how much he had screwed up and how just a simple little problem went so wrong. He'd given John a thwack around the head for being such an ass but couldn't deny his intentions were good.

"It was just a stupid fight that should have gone away by now, I just don't know what happened."

"Did John say something to make it more than just a stupid fight?"

"What?" Dean asked like he was insane, "no, he just... hit a nerve and I almost punched his lights out for it. Then Mary tries to make it right and it just gets even worse, I don't want her to make it right, this was my problem and she gets into this huge fight with John about it. All they do is try to help me and I toss it back like it's trash, I feel like I'm spitting in their faces... I just...I don't know why I do it I just... I wish I was a better person like what they're trying to make me but... it's not me."

_Jeez, the kid thinks he's a bad person because he keeps pushing them away, damn I thought we talked about this years ago!_

"What about Sam? How come you can't talk to him about any of this?"

"I can't put anything else on him, he's dealing with enough... his parents are fighting and it's all my fault, I just... I should leave."

Dean stood from the couch to leg it but before he could even grab his bag Steve put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

"You ain't going anywhere kid, you're staying here 'til morning and that's final, got it?"

Dean sat back down, he knew when he'd lost a fight, maybe he could try and leave in a few hours when Steve was asleep.

But that night, after a long shower, he found himself curling up on the couch warmly wrapped in blankets and didn't stir until the nightmares came in the early hours of Saturday morning.

"_S-stop it... please... nooo!"_ he screamed when the seventh slash was whipped across his back and the sounds of Ron's horrid laughs filled the air.

"Dean."

"_No! Leave me alone! Get offa me! No! Help me! Please! Sam!"_

"Dean, wake up!"

"Sammy!" Dean screamed one last time before he found himself awake, panting, sweating, with Steve's worried face and bleeding lip look down on him.

"Wha... what happened?" he asked pulling himself into a sitting position on the couch.

"You were having a nightmare, damn kiddo, you okay?" he asked, his eyes wide with nothing but fear for the young boy who's heart was still thumping out of his chest.

"Y-yeah, m'fine, sorry."

He didn't ask about the split lip. He'd woken up to several of John's bleeding lips and scratched cheeks to know he was the one that caused it, but he was always grateful Sam was told to stay back when he had one of the more terrifying dreams, he wouldn't forgive himself if he hurt that kid.

"Lucky charms?" Steve asked after a few minutes of watching the trembling teen slowly calm down. It was six in the morning but it's not like they were going back to sleep after that.

"Yeah, please," Dean felt like he was going to throw up, but it was always better to throw up with something in your stomach and he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday.

The kitchen was small, not tiny, but the kitchen table was certainly only big enough for two people; a man and a wife let's say. Dean knew because he knew Steve used to have a wife and even after she passed away he still lived in the same house, '_probably always_ _would'_ John told him once. Dean thought it was kinda strange considering when he thought about living in the same house his parents were killed in, he just couldn't bear the thought, but then again, everyone deals with loss differently.

As he ate the Lucky Charms he was handed, he made his mind move from death to something else. Steve's bowls weren't half as big as Mary's, the cereal was a little soft from being old, and he didn't know about Dean's habit of three bowls before his few slices of toast but that was okay, it just made him realize all the more, how much the Winchester's did for him.

"Sam said 'make sure you clean your shoulders', what did he mean by that?"

Dean looked a little taken aback, but there was also a slight smile on his face.

"I uh, I caught my shoulders on something, no big deal."

"Dean?"

Dean looked up.

"How stupid do I look?"

Dean swallowed the building fear, he didn't want to dig himself deeper into the hole he'd already made, he'd said enough last night hadn't he? What was the need for everyone to know every tiny detail of his life all of sudden? They never had before, if e didn't want to talk about something, they didn't make him. Why was that changing all of sudden? He hated it!

"Alright, I presume that this has to do with the remains of the 'wild animal' that I looked after for you. You don't have to tell me, just promise me you'll clean your shoulders good and you'll look after yourself, if I send you back home a mess they won't thank me will they?"

Dean started to worry all the more then, he was being sent back? _God no! Not yet! Jesus__,__ please not yet! Not after all I've done, I can't... I can't do this to them anymore! _

"Which by the way, in a few hours you are gonna have to talk to them."

"I-I don't want to, I can't, please, I can't go back there, I can't, I've messed them up too much, please don't send me back."

"Whoa whoa Dean, breathe, I'm not sending you back anywhere okay, you can stay here as long as you need to, when you're ready you can go back, you can. It's fine kiddo, just relax and please look after yourself and try to talk to them on the phone at least, as long as you do that, we have a deal."

Dean forced his hammering heart to slow down, taking long even breaths until he felt somewhat calmer - somewhat being he didn't feel like he was going to have a heart attack anytime soon, maybe just a panic attack for now.

"Right, it's Saturday, do you have anywhere you need to go? Anything you need to do?"

Dean shook his head.

"Get yourself in the shower, sleeping on my dingy couch as opposed to the guest bedroom can't have done your back any good."

Dean nodded, he wasn't sure he had enough energy last night after the shower to get himself upstairs so he just laid on the sofa and must have fallen asleep before Steve covered him with a blanket.

"I'm gonna go to the grocery store later, anything you want?"

Dean shook his head, Steve was exactly like the Winchester's, but like he did there for a few months, he would live on Lucky Charms, it was fine, he'd done it eighteen months ago, before Mary forced him to come along to the store with her.

"Make yourself at home, but don't you dare leave when it's time to call them."

Dean nodded, okay, it's time to grow up, it's only a phone call to tell them he was fine, a quick 'yeah I'm good thanks, bye' and that would be the end of it. He could then spend the rest of the weekend coming up with a plan to either fix things, or decide which direction he planned to run like hell. So much for studying for that Science exam.

_**TBC...**_

Go check out the new one shot **Bruised verse: Sleeping with Ghosts** if you haven't already!

:D


	6. Running on Empty

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **_

**Running on Empty**

"Steve?"

"_Yeah?"_

"He... he likes Lucky Charms for breakfast."

"_Lucky Charms, got it." _

Mary looked to the side where Sam was waiting anxiously. "Can I talk to Dean?" he asked biting his lip like somehow he thought maybe Dean didn't want to talk to him.

"It's Steve, Dean's gone to bed sweetie," she said before putting the phone to her ear again. "Sam wants to talk to you."

She handed the phone over then sat herself on the couch. Now that she knew Dean was safe she could let some of her tiredness take hold. She'd never heard that relief takes a lot out of you, but now she could certainly attest to it.

"Uncle Steve?"

"_Yeah kiddo, it's me."_

"Is Dean really okay?" Sam already knew the answer, but he so badly needed to hear it again. Dean had to be a little okay if he hadn't gone hunting or something stupid like he did the other night when he got pissed or upset or whatever the hell he was that night.

"_Well, he's about as okay as you'd expect." _He could always count on his Uncle Steve for one thing, he would always tell him the truth even if it hurt. As a cop he had to handle when people were hurting and when people say ignorance is bliss, they didn't know shit!

"Uncle Steve... watch out for nightmares," he warned. Dean had a few the last couple of nights, he hadn't quite woken up screaming, because Sam had barely heard him from upstairs, but the dark circles told him everything. Dean hadn't been getting much, if any, sleep lately because of them.

"_Okay, promise I will."_

"And..." he turned to see his mother now in the kitchen calling his dad letting him know for the second time in two days it was time to come back home from the search party because Dean was found. "Make sure he cleans his shoulders good," Sam didn't elaborate on that, he just set the phone down on the receiver and hoped Dean would be okay, that just for one night he hoped he would be all right, and in the morning, maybe everything would be better. Maybe they could go back to being a family again.

About ten minutes later when Sam had enough of flicking through the TV with no one to laugh at the lame commercials with, John walked through the door with a strange expression on his face, something Sam had seen only rarely - he looked frightened.

"John?" Mary called when she heard the front door open.

John close to completely ignored his wife and went straight for her purse, looking pretty frantic and in need of something quick.

"What are you looking for?" she asked hoping she could help, she wasn't at all thinking about how rude it was that her husband just barged in and was looking through her handbag like he was airport security or something... okay maybe she was a little.

"The ATM's closed and I'm outta cash and I need gas."

"Where are you going?"

"To get our son back," John answered shortly, his voice sharp with fear like a monster had him or something.

"John he's fine, Steve said he can stay the night or as long as he needs."

"He doesn't need to stay there, he needs to be home."

"Is this about what he needs or what you want?" she asked carefully, coming to stand beside him.

"No, damn it, he needs to come home _now_."

"Why?"

"Because if he doesn't come back now... he might never!" John yelled close to tears, he had messed up bad, he wasn't going to let his son slip away from him after all this, blood or no blood, Dean was his boy and he'd vowed to take care of him as he would his own.

He went ripping apart Mary's bag again looking but clearly not caring what he found or didn't, he just needed to do something!

"John baby, listen to me," she pealed his hands away from her bag and pulled him close. "He needs space from us after everything that's gone on these past few days, he needs to let himself think, we need to let him think. And you know what, we need to think too. It's just for a couple of days, we haven't lost him John, he's going come back."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will."

John let his hands go limp in hers as he sank his head to his chest.

"M'sorry, m'so damn sorry for being a jackass. I just..."

"I know, I'm sorry too. Everything is going to be okay."

Mary kissed her husband affectionately on the lips then leaned into his chest until he put his arms around her.

"Sammy, honey can you come here for a second?" Mary called when she had wiped her cheeks and pulled away from John who left one arm around her middle.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his head hung down, watching his shuffling toes like he had nothing better to do.

"Everything's gonna work okay baby? And if you need to talk, or you have something on your mind, you can always come to us."

Sam nodded finding the pattern on the kitchen floor fascinating.

"Sam look at me," she pushed when he had yet to raise his head and gently she tipped up his chin to see straight into the pained hazel eyes. "We've been through worse, so has Dean, this is just for a few days then we'll work everything out okay?"

There was a pause, a long pause, so damn long John wanted to run over to his son and hug him tight to squeeze just one damn sound from him.

"Can you two stop fighting?" it wasn't an upset little boy asking his parents to stop scaring him with the yelling, it was the beginnings of a mature young man asking his parents to grow up and talk to each other like adults again.

"No more fighting, unless your dad puts baseball on, then I'm back to yelling," she kept a straight face for all of a few seconds before breaking into a bright smile when Sam tittered under his breath a little.

"Why don't you find a film we can watch, I'm sure none of us are going to sleep much until Dean calls tomorrow," John suggested. Sam nodded before running to his bedroom to find a film, one his parents liked. He wasn't really in the mood for TV but if it killed a bit of time until tomorrow morning, he didn't really care.

_**SPN**_

When the phone started to ring at just gone half ten in the morning Sam jumped up from his bed not even caring how he got there, he was just happy his parents set the phone down on his side table so he could be the first to answer."Dean?" Sam yelled before the phone even got to his ear.

"_Uh...yeah,"_ was the quiet reply.

"Are...are you okay?" Sam asked not really knowing what else to say. After the last few days of silence he was so thrilled to hear Dean talking he himself was tongue-tied.

"_M'fine, just... I thought I'd give you guys some space for a while."_ 'A while,' made Sam's stomach twist as it sounded like Dean was planning to spend more than just a few nights over there.

"Mom and dad said the exact same thing about you," Sam tried to smile despite the sadness, now he knew he wasn't going to be seeing Dean for 'a while,' at the least.

"_I just... I think it's best if I just..." _

"What?" Sam asked, tears in his eyes and he knew Dean heard them in his voice too.

"_Oh, Steve's back with groceries I'm ah... gonna go help him, I'll see you later."_

Dean was gone before Sam could even say goodbye. Yup, it was official, Dean was gone!

He didn't have to explain how the conversation went when his parents saw the tears streaming down his face when they walked in.

_**SPN**_

Sam asked him how he was, it was always the first thing Sam asked any day, but today was different, it wasn't a casual how you doing? It was an 'I know you're not doing too good and what can I do to help?' Which of course stung like a bitch because Sam shouldn't be offering help, he should be spitting in his face at the very least for how much of an ass he'd been this past week.

"M'fine, just... I thought I'd give you guys some space for a while."

"_Mom and dad said the exact sam__e__ thing about you."_ It was funny, Sam didn't refer to them as 'my mom and dad,' hadn't for quite some time. Dean wondered if it was to get him to try and call them mom and dad just once or something - he didn't really see that happening in his lifetime never mind theirs. He just wasn't right to call them mom and dad.

"I just... I think it's best if I just..." _go, leave, never come back, let you guys be happy and normal aga__i__n without me, like you were before I came and started tagging along like a third wheel._

"_What__?"_ the kid obviously knew what he was getting at, he could tell by the emotions flooding out of the damn phone from Sam's end.

Just when he thought he would have to say something which, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to he was saved by the bell, or rather the door as Steve came through holding a grocery bag in his right hand and his house keys in the other.

"Oh, Steve's back with groceries I'm ah... gonna go help him, I'll see you later." Slamming the phone down he jumped to where Steve was kicking the door shut.

"It went that well huh?" he asked, dumping the bag down on the kitchen countertop.

Dean shrugged, then started to put the bread and milk away in the appropriate places just so he had something to do.

Steve watched silently as his food was put away in perfect order before Dean made his way back to the living room. With a sigh he made himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, thankful he had a few days off to help the Winchesters with this mess. They were good people and Dean was a good kid who just hadn't caught very many breaks in life. He'd seen too many young lives broken and he would be damned if he was going to let it happen to the poor kid in the other room.

Poking his head into the other room he let Dean know that he could use the spare bedroom upstairs and could put his stuff away when he wanted. He wasn't surprised when he heard soft footsteps on the stairs and the guest bedroom door squeak close. While he wasn't surprised, he was saddened when Dean didn't come out until hours later, and then only for a leak before returning to the bedroom and closing the door behind him again.

_Damn this kid is hurting. _

_**SPN**_

It was Sunday, Dean had been sleeping at Steve's for two nights, and nothing had changed much since then. He hadn't called Sam back when he rang countless times and only Steve picked up. He hadn't been talking much besides, 'can I take a shower?' 'Have you got any Tylenol?' and 'Lucky Charms is fine.' He went for runs about five times a day which was ridiculous but Steve didn't call the kid on it. To be honest, even though he had a new house guest, most of the time it didn't feel like it, Dean was either outside sprinting himself into the ground or in the guest bedroom doing whatever he did there. He only saw the kid when he came for breakfast, lunch and supper, which was of course, Lucky Charms, Lucky Charms and guess what? Lucky Charms. It was just a good thing Sam came over sometimes with John and the kid always loved those things so he always made sure he had some on hand.

John called a couple of times a day, as well as Sam. The conversations weren't exactly anything to write home about but the man needed to know if Dean was still there and Steve could understand his anxiety as he hadn't exactly had any proof besides others telling him he was.

Today was different though, today John came over and he didn't have Mary or Sam in tow so Steve guessed they didn't know he was coming.

"How is he?" John asked, that being code for 'Hi, how you doing, you'd better be looking after my boy, now where the hell is he?'

"Out," Steve answered shortly, John was really making sure he was still here, which he was, for now.

"Out where?" John pushed, he was trying to act like he was just curious, really he was close to having a heart attack because '_out'_ meant Dean could be anywhere.

"Out for a run, this must be..." he thought for a second, "the third today."

John didn't seem shocked by that, it was barely lunch and Dean had been on three one hour runs already, yes, that kid got up damn early. Dean ran and worked out all the time at home and he'd always figured he must just be one of those kids that never run out of energy. But right now he very much doubted that, Dean must be running on empty and by empty he meant sucked dry, nothing at all left.

"Time did he go?"

"About half an hour ago."

John nodded, he had some time then. He was glad he came mid one of Dean's runs, otherwise the kid would probably see him coming up the drive, run off and never stop. Dean hated him right now; John didn't blame him.

"How is he really?" John asked when they both made their way to the kitchen, he was handed a beer from the fridge and took it gratefully. As they knew it bothered Dean, they'd tried to keep the alcohol to a minimum in their house especially since they learned Ron's favourite pastime, above beating the shit out of his nephew, was sucking the nearest liquor stores and bars dry.

"Doesn't talk much, then again when does he?"

John hummed confirming that, "When Sammy's around." He took a sip of the beer before setting it down on the table to stare at the bottle.

"Spends most of his time outside or in the spare bedroom, not really sure what he's doing up there but, thought I'd give him some privacy." Steve chugged half of his own beverage before getting bored of it quickly as well.

John nodded yet again, _good choice_, Dean never liked getting suffocated with concern, it was best to just leave him to it. Trouble was he only remembered that after he'd screwed up, this time he was sure the damage was getting unfixable.

"Uh, I wanted to ask you about something."

"What?" John looked up from the green tinted bottle to his friend.

"Nightmares... I know you said they were bad sometimes but... damn. I didn't realize you meant-"

"Yeah I know, never quite believe it 'til you see it. How bad are they?" lately Dean's nightmares weren't bad. They had improved greatly in the last two years.

"Woke up screaming couple of times last night... split lip from Saturday morning."

John took a good look at Steve's face, it wasn't that bad, you would only notice it if you really looked but the fact that it was there, faint or not meant Dean's nightmares had to be damn bad, almost his worst, out of ten, this had to be about a level eight, which wasn't good.

"Sorry, forgot to warn you about that. Has he said anything about... wanting to come home yet?"

"Uh, no, sorry man."

"Has he even mentioned... any of us?" John was clinging on for dear life now, trying to find anything that told him Dean still wanted to be a part of their family.

"Well, he screams out for you guys when he's... mid torture-mare."

John looked up in shock, surprised as hell, happy as hell too, with a slight smile ghosting his face.

"Good that's... good."

"Damn right it is. Look, I'm sure once he gets bored of snacking on Lucky Charms ten times a day he'll be right back home where he's meant to be."

"I hope so... no offence."

"None taken, oh and there was another thing I wanted to ask you."

"Yeah?" Steve noted John's tone had a slightly higher pitch.

"Thanksgiving next week, my house?"

"Uh, sure, I'll let Mary know she doesn't have to buy the turkey this year. But I'm sure she'll call you asking what she can bring." He couldn't help the touch of relief in his voice.

They spoke about everything yet nothing for another twenty minutes before John left - just in time too. Dean could see the Impala driving down the road and knew who was in the driver's seat as he hid in the bushes before running inside.

"Have a good run?" Steve asked a little too cheery as Dean walked through the door panting, covered in sweat despite it being freezing outside.

"They came?" Dean asked after a quick nod.

"John. Sam and Mary didn't know he was here."

Dean's strange feelings of hope and maybe a little happiness sunk, they didn't know John came? So they obviously don't want him coming, which means they don't want to come either.

"Mary said it's best if they leave you alone until you think you're ready to think about moving back. I'm pretty sure if Sam knew John was coming, he'd come too and he wouldn't leave."

_Oh... well, that's kinda okay I guess__.__C__an't handle seeing Sam right now, I think I'd probably blubber and panic like a girl then run off to Mexico, and I really don't wanna do that. I kinda like Kansas._

"Why don't you take a shower? I'll fix you something up when you get out, burgers okay? I've run out of Lucky Charms." _Okay a lie... but the kid will start looking like a Lucky Charm if he doesn't eat something else soon._

"Um... okay." Once again Dean took off for the bathroom, had a quick shower and the burgers were ready when he came out. He grabbed his plate then mumbled something close to 'thank you,' before taking off upstairs again with his lunch.

_**SPN**_

Dean kinda liked this room, it reminded him of his mom somehow. It was like Mary and John's bedroom, flowery, kinda girly and totally too lame for him to even relate to, but he did, and it wasn't the worst feeling in the world.

He opened his science book where he left off earlier and started reading again, he had reached the practise questions and was working through them rather quickly. Physics was his forte then, if he was getting these right, which of course he had no way of knowing if he was. The book had no answers in it, which was totally stupid because the exam was on Monday morning first thing and the teacher had no time to check if any of his students were on the right track before then.

Chewing on the burger, trying to do his best not to get ketchup on his work, he carried on trying to make himself stay on task. The burger was a nice change though, running out of Lucky Charms gave him the excuse he'd been praying for. As much as he loved them for breakfast, two days non-stop of them, breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in-between - well they started to taste like cardboard after the first day, never mind now. Though something told him Steve hadn't ran out of Lucky Charms, he had just picked up on the faces he pulled each time he went down to get a bowl full of the stuff, he would try to be better at hiding it next time though, he must be losing his touch.

He soon found the plate empty and his practise test finished, it was onto the next topic then, living organisms and cells, super, he always loved that, not. He read the book anyway and was at the questions at the back of the book too soon, he was ready to toss his entire folder out of the window when he read only the first question. _It didn't say jack about DNA in the book! Why was there a question on it? Why for the love of god would you ask something I know shit all about?_

He went back over the books contents page, to prove his point, to say 'hah I told you asshole' to no one in particular... but lo and behold the booklet did in fact say something about DNA, it had five detailed pages dedicated to it in fact. He threw the book at the wall quicker than his mind thought to, it seemed his arms, although a little sore, knew just what he was thinking before even he did.

"Sam I just... I don't understand this crap! It's too hard!" he yelled turning to his side... only to find nothing but a bedside table and an ancient alarm clock. He sighed, closed his eyes fighting the temptation to weep as he clunked his head back on the headboard. He missed Sam more than he thought possible, which was pretty damn much! He needed him even more.

He thought about calling him, asking him to come around... or even just so he could get a Sammy pep talk special over the phone, but pushed away the urge as quickly as it came. Sam needed space from him. _What is the point in moving out to give them peace if you __call__ home every time you get a little frustrated? Grow a set Dean! For god__s__ sake pull your selfish worthless self together!_

His own brand of tough love didn't seem to be as helpful as Sam's, it just made him want to curl up and die painfully, and alone, just as he was always meant to.

_What would mom and dad say if they saw you? Nothing__,__ that's what... they'd just laugh, and rightly so!_

'_Pathetic!' _he heard Ron chuckle inside his head clear as a bell and it scared him to his very soul. Ron was dead, he knew that, he'd gotten the smoked corpse special and had quite some time ago for crying out loud, he couldn't be any more dead if he tried! But it seemed that even though the man was gone, his cruel words refused to leave his head.

'_You idiot boy, you're only good for bait 'cause if you got killed it'd be no big loss.'_

Cringing against the hurt, the memories, he could feel the pull, the _need, _to go out hunting again. To pull out his knife and find some fucking monster and make it pay. But he had promised Sam he wouldn't do anything stupid and he knew that more than certainly qualified. Almost without realising it he found himself kneeling beside his bed and yanking the blade from between the mattresses. Pulling it out he stared at the shiny cold metal. He had always found it beautiful, how it curved and flashed and fit so well into his hand, like it was made to be there. But right now all he could see reflected in it was his failure as he lightly traced it over his skin. He stared as a bead of bright red blood dripped onto the floor and it took several memorizing minutes to realise that it came from him. _Nononononono he wasn't... he couldn't..._

Dropping the knife like it was on fire he ran downstairs and picked up the phone and dialled before he could even convince himself to stop. It rang twice, Mary answered, his panicked breaths clouded the line.

"_Dean? Are you okay sweetie? Talk to me."_ She knew who it was, she knew too well who it was and what was wrong, she didn't know why but she knew something was up.

He slammed the phone back down before even saying a word, and sprinted out of the door before Steve could catch him.

_**TBC...**_

**Not much to say today except thank you and hope you enjoyed this! :D **


	7. Talk you down

_**Right, sorry if I don't reply to your reviews right away, my hotmail is being a bum! It won't open or nothing... I hope it works soon, I miss my emails! **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Talk you down**

"_Dean? Are you okay sweetie? Talk to me."_

He slammed the phone back down before even saying a word, and sprinted out of the door before Steve could catch him.

He ran until he found himself at the park, not the woods which seemed to have a magnetic pull on him, but Sammy's favourite kids park, complete with swings, a slide, a huge football field and a few benches. It was November so no one was hanging around this time of year which left Dean with a butt load of grass to himself. He could think as loud as he wanted out here and no one would be close enough to hear.

Not even the still homeless dog who now thanks to him, answers to the name Angus, was around today, then again he wasn't exactly good company lately so he didn't blame the little guy for not coming out like he usually did when he came out here.

_P__erfect_.

He sat himself down on the furthest swing and started rocking on the chains. It was drizzling now so the wetness had washed away the blood on his wrist, he only hoped the rain water wouldn't infect the cut, but it wasn't all that big, so it might have closed already.

He looked up at the grey sky and thought about talking to his mom and dad where ever they might be now, but... they wouldn't want to see him like this, he didn't want _anyone_ to see him like this. Depressed, angry, hurt... damaged... _broken_. If he wasn't the poster boy for the adopted child from hell who was? He swore to himself he would never be like this, wouldn't give up, wouldn't stop waking up and trying, wouldn't hurt himself because he had no other release. He'd staved it off for almost two years, that was not too bad, right?

"M'sorry," were the only words he could think of right now, spoken to no one yet signifying everything, as he looked from the dull sky to the tarmac beneath his feet.

He started to swing himself harder and didn't flinch when the chains whined under his weight as he got higher and higher. He only stopped abruptly, slamming his heels into the ground, when he was close to hurling, but that was the fun in it; who can stand and walk home without doing a lap dance with the ground beneath you. Only he didn't have anyone to laugh with, fall over and graze his chin with.

He remembered the first day of summer break he spent with them, he and Sam came to this very park , he whined and pouted saying he was way too old for a kids park but he couldn't have been more wrong when he got there. They both did the 'who can hurl first' game. Neither of them did, but Sam went tumbling down and Dean almost ended up with a broken jaw when he pulled Sam in such a way he fell on him instead of the ground. His skinned chin hurt like hell for weeks but it was a good day nonetheless, it was the first time he felt like a kid again in seven years. Yup, that was a damn good day.

_**SPN**_

After hours idly swaying, thinking about good times with his kid brother and some others with John and Mary he snorted wondering when he had become such a drama queen. Things would get better, they had to. He'd make it work for their sake. Shivering lightly as the sun set, he suddenly noticed the damp chill settling into his skin and the numbness of his hands still tightly twined around the chains. He only had a sweatshirt on but hadn't even noticed the cold air while he'd been lost in thought

It was dark by the time he made it back to Steve's. He managed to tip toe inside and to the bathroom unnoticed. Stripping off his soggy sweatshirt he left on his only slightly clammy tee and got to work on cleaning his cut with water and some antibacterial stuff he found in the cabinet over the sink. It only occurred to him when he dried off his wrist that he could have hit an artery, could have bled to death, could have cut his fucking hand off! He wasn't thinking when he cut himself, he didn't remember anything in his mind, so for all he knew, he could have in fact made himself an amputee!

He didn't know the person that cut his arm, he didn't like him much either, but he did his best to ignore him as Steve pounded on the bathroom door.

"I'm fine!" he barked back to the pleas to open the door.

"Dean, kid, where the hell did you go in such a hurry?" Much to Dean's relief, Steve had clearly been so surprised by Dean running from the house like a caged animal that he hadn't seen the dribble of blood down his hand.

"I just... needed some air. I'll be out in a sec," he promised before turning the tap off and dabbing his arm dry with the toilet paper. Once there was no more red for the paper to absorb he flushed it down the toilet. The cut was now a thin line of red with a pinkish outline and should go unnoticed if he didn't doddle in the hallway too much. One last rinse of his hands and tossing his discarded sweatshirt over his injured arm, he was out of the bathroom to face what he knew was coming.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, not impressed, and not fooled. Arms crossed he stood directly in Dean's path taking in the bowed head and how the boy refused to meet his eyes.

"School work was frustrating, I went for a walk to cool off, you can even ask them, it's not exactly weird."Translation: _"Ask the Winchesters, I take off all the time after I toss a book at a wall when it pisses me off."_

Steve sighed stepping aside, "Alright, next time I'd appreciate it if you tell me you were heading out and where you're going."

"Why?" _well that was mature Dean._

"The station called me earlier, a woman came in this morning and reported her son missing, not far from here."

_Okay... that sounds weird, why didn't I pick up on that?_

"What else?" it was barely a question, more of a demand.

"A kid around the same age, around _your_ age, also disappeared just a few towns over." Steve hesitated and tried to choose his words carefully, "Both families who reported them missing said they acted, a bit, uh... strange before disappearing."

"So, what? I come here and you think I'm acting out of character? You don't even fucking know me." _Dean that was kinda harsh you jackass, he's been nothing but nice to you, too damn nice for what you deserve!_

"Look, as long as you're under my roof, you follow my rules." Steve shuddered and wondered when he had become his dad. "Rule number one, the next time you go out, and every time after that, you tell me where you're going. Rule number two, no leaving this house without me after dark. Got it?"

"You're not John, you can't tell me what to do," with that bitchy line Dean slipped past the man and jogged upstairs to the guest room. He walked in and felt sucked down by some force, it was dark and heavy in here, just as he left it. His books in a heap on the floor at the far end of the room and his knife half tucked under the bed, half poking out and gleaming in the moonlight.

He picked it up and stuffed it back under the mattress once he wiped the tiny spot of blood on his dark jeans.

The weight that had lifted somewhat out in the park was piling back on, the shadows in the room were thick and suffocating and every damn emotion he had brushed off like dirt on his shoulder were flooding back, drowning him in misery he had created. Okay... he didn't like this room anymore and there was no way he could sleep in it.

_**SPN**_

"_He's not coming to the phone,"_ Mary told her husband and son as she spoke to Steve. When Dean called then hung up, she called right back willing herself to not panic but now Dean was back and that was okay, if only he would stay in one damn place long enough for her to breathe!

"_Can I try?"_ Sam asked, his hand held out for the phone. _"Uncle Steve?"_

"Yeah kid?"

"_Can you put me on loud speaker?"_

Steve clicked his button for loud speaker and hoped the volume was loud enough to reach upstairs and to the guest bedroom. Little did he know, Dean had parked himself on the top of the stairs several minutes ago because the room he said he liked just that day, was like a black hole of hell to him now.

Sam's echoed voice, just starting to occasionally crack, drifted up towards him, _"Dean? I know you can hear me, you've got ears like a wolf. Anyway... I just... I hope you're okay, and I hope you come home soon, I can't even remember what I did on weekends before you-, just, please can you come to __the__ phone and talk to me? Please? You don't even have to say anything, you always said I can do enough talking for the both of us."_

Dean smiled despite himself, _he__ was right, he could._

"_I guess I'll be seeing you... I miss you Dean... bye."_

"See ya Sammy," Dean whispered to himself folding his arms over his knees and resting his head on top.

He couldn't talk to him, just couldn't, he couldn't lay that on the kid, everything he was going through right now, that just wasn't fair. But... he needed to talk to him, if for just the kid's sake, he needed to!

When the house went silent, Dean began to stir. Steve had gone to bed thinking Dean was sleeping too when in fact he had hidden himself in the laundry room, waiting, surrounded by the few belongings he'd grabbed out of his bedroom. No time like the present, he swapped a pitch black room for a pitch black hallway and sure enough he found himself at Steve's computer. He shouldn't be in here, I mean geez a man's computer is his kingdom, but he didn't know what else to do.

Gingerly sitting down he pressed the button and waited as the whine indicated the thing was warming up. At last he finally had the correct screen up and he stared for what felt like hours at the silently blinking cursor of doom that he could have sworn was laughing at him. Give a million monkeys a chance and they could write Shakespeare so surely he should be able to come up with something. 'Wish you were here' seemed too trite and painfully true, so maybe he should just do what they suggested in his English class and simply start writing and go with the flow. Right he could do that, a million monkeys his ass!

Delicately, pushing his fingers down on the keys he started typing whatever crap crossed his mind, what he felt, what he didn't feel, what he wanted, what he needed, what he had been up to, what book was this weeks to be tossed and which wall he aimed at. It was probably the longest e-mail he had ever written in his life and he didn't bother reading it back knowing the entire thing would get deleted if he gave this a second thought. Not giving himself a chance to change his mind he closed his eyes and clicked send... it took everything left in him to push down the agony of screaming _NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!_

Working on auto pilot he shut the computer off trying to leave it just as Steve had it, not noticing the key board was wet with his tears. Moving to the couch he dragged a soft, well worn throw over his legs and forced himself to read one of his science books he'd brought down with him. He wasn't taking anything in, didn't know what he had just read even the split second after he read it, but it wasn't about studying, it was about keeping his eyes open.

He hoped insomnia would be his best friend tonight. He was tired, couldn't sleep, didn't want to sleep, didn't want any more nightmares, no more Ron laughing, or punching him in his face... still hurting 'til he woke up. He kinda thought that was over - guess not.

He wasn't surprised when insomnia bailed and he woke up tangled in the blanket screaming the place down.

_**SPN**_

Sam was bored, beyond bored, but not the typical I'm a kid and I need entertaining bored, no, this was a I can't do anything, I don't want to do anything, and I just don't know what to do anymore so I'm doing nothing bored... yeah, bored might be the wrong choice of a word.

His homework was done and he didn't have any more tests to study for so he'd settled for flicking through his dads computer. Pinball and solitaire didn't take long to get stupefying dull so he asked his parents if he could use the internet.

He glanced at the news, found nothing he didn't already know from the newspapers he'd taken to reading lately, so he decided to have a quick look at his email. He never got any, other than the ones from people he didn't know wanting to sell him prescription drugs and they went straight to the trash bin. The only real one he got was from Dean once months ago when they were messing around.

"**One new message."**

_Okay, that's weird, Dean's the only that has my-_

Boredom completely forgotten his eyes were riveted to the screen not quite believing what he was seeing. He had to smile at Dean's name – AC/DC-Kills-it-Bitch! – sure made his Sammy123 look soooo ordinary. Reading on, ignoring the frequent misspellings, he grinned wider when he saw what he had so been hoping he could hear Dean say in person – how much he loved and missed his family, his Winchester family, how grateful he was for what they had given him, his memories of the fun times they had had and, surprisingly, how he was beginning to dislike Lucky Charms. He even couldn't stop himself from snorting when Dean mentioned how much he hated Biology, but thankfully, even though he did toss his book to the far wall, he didn't dent it in Steve's guest bedroom like he had done several times at home.

Then his heart froze as he read Dean's words about how he was poison and all the things he'd done wrong, how he wished he'd been man enough to not let them adopt him, his nightmares, his scars, why he flipped out so bad and why the reason for all the anger and pain that came after that discussion with John. But, worst of all, how he had stared at his knife lately, all 'shiny and sharp', before tossing it away. Sam was well on his way to freaking out but it was the last words of the e-mail which pushed him over the edge:

'_**Anyway... thanks for those days man.. couldn't have made it this far withut u... but, this hole scar thing, it just made me realize how different I am, how much I depend on them to make myself know I'm different, I need them Sam, I NEED them there to rimind me what ive done and who I am. **_

_**I just think my times up... somethin just aint rite here or anywhere... FUCK!**_

_**...night Sammy... and... for what little its worth, I AM SORRY!**_

_**(ps, don't show this to ur dad, he'll kick my ass for cursing in front of you.)**_

_**Dean.'**_

_Oh...SHIT...DEAN!_

_**TBC...**_

_**Angus is AC/DC's school boy guitarist! Me and Samantha V both thought the name was too cute to pass up on! **_


	8. You crying, tragic waste of skin

*****Kick ass co-writer!***/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**You crying, tragic waste of skin**

He loved it when the trees turned all red and gold, it kind of reminded him of Vegas when it was all lit up at night. Of course the Vampires liked it too but that was another story for another time. Dean's butt was numb from sitting on the park bench and he thought he was literally freezing but when he saw the black button nose in the distance, a rare genuine smile lit up his face and he wouldn't have budged if a Wendigo tap-danced in front of him.

He held is hand out and waggled the bread between his fingers. "C'mon dude, you know you want some, ain't gonna hurt ya."

From just a few feet away a small wiry hound with a copper coloured head slowly sidled forward on its belly towards the piece of sandwich held temptingly in the human's hand. Body tense and ready to run it eased its way forward.

Dean could clearly see the deep brown eyes which he thought would give Sam a run for his money and it crossed his mind that with the eyes and the floppy ears the mutt was really a canine Sammy. His smile grew larger.

"What's wrong with you today?" sure the dog was skittish but he had hoped the mutt would have learned to trust him a little by now. "Dude you're skinnier than Sammy, and he eats like a friggin' horse, c'mon, I'm sure you're hungry..."

Abruptly the small dog lurched forward to snatch the bit of bread and quickly limped away to wolf it down. Settling itself where it could watch the food giver it waited hopefully for another morsel.

"That's my boy. I know it's not Mary's bread but... it'll do for us right?"

"DEAN!" a loud panicked, and very familiar voice yelled towards him.

Startled the little dog ran into the bushes and Dean scowled. He set the rest of the sandwich down on the ground in front of Angus's bush for if he came back.

"Dean!" panting, Sam ran to stand in front of him, "I've been looking all over for you, you weren't at Steve's, you weren't at school..."

"Sam?" Dean replied, his stomach plummeting, his moment of lightness vanished. The kid sounded like he was freaking out! Unless... "I take it you got my email?"

"Yeah! Dude, what the hell?"

"Isn't that my line?"

"Dean I'm serious!"

Dean let out a regretful sigh, "Alright, let's hear it..." He felt instantly guilty for the rudeness in his tone and his words.

"Are you okay?" Sam pleaded, still tossing his words out at twice his usual speed.

"Yeah, m'good."

"Dean, the truth, I've never lied to you."

"The truth?" he questioned rhetorically.

"Yeah," Sam's reply was without hesitation or question.

"Okay, no, I'm really not okay, but what's admitting it gonna do? I'm still in the same damn boat, that's sinking by the way."

"Dean..." Sam was close to tears, and sounded even worse. "I didn't see you at school today..."

"Yeah, I was studying for my last test... listen Sammy... I really gotta go... I'll be seeing ya kid." Stiffly Dean stood up and stepped away.

"No! I mean uh..." Sam was changing the subject rather abruptly, but if he could just keep Dean talking for a little longer... "are your shoulders better?"

"Yeah, you did a pretty good job, ever think about being a nurse?" he joked but inside he felt anything but. As happy as he was to see Sammy, he very much wished to be anywhere but here.

"Ha ha, no thanks, your blood and guts is bad enough, don't need to be seeing anyone else's."

"You've never seen my guts," Dean commented leaning on the bench, trying to look casual. Why he felt the need to put on an act for Sam after all this time was beyond him.

"True."

_Well that 'normal' conversation lasted long._

Dean saw something in Sam he had rarely seen before, he saw hurt and lost hope, he couldn't just leave now. He wasn't having the best few weeks but that was no excuse to be cruel, especially not to Sammy. "So uh... how did... I mean... what-" he stuttered not knowing what the hell to talk about now.

"Schools boring, homework's even worse. Harrison called to apologize, I think his boss made him or something 'cause it didn't sound sincere according to my parents. They've asked for him not to call anymore 'cause technically now they've adopted you they don't have to go to any more meetings, it was just to keep on his good side but now they've had enough of him...and if we have anymore problems they'll ask for help from someone else. Mom and dad have stopped fighting, dads trying to do more around the house and stuff which is kinda funny 'cause mom keeps yelling that he's done it wrong, he made his work shirts pink so he's kinda gave up on that yesterday." The ghost of a forced smile on Sam's face drifted away soon enough. "They keep asking me if I'm okay and I'm not the one that... I'm not you."

"No, you're better," Dean mumbled before he'd even realized he'd said it out loud.

"Dean please come home, please it's just... I need you to come home."

"It's not my home Sam." Tense, Dean stood and paced away, up and down, up and down.

"Yes it is!"

"No... all I've been for two years is the tag along kid, well it's gotta change, I can't keep leaning on you guys, I should be able to take care of myself but I can't even do that! I mean come on, I can't even run away right, look, I was such a chicken I had to go to Steve's! 'Cause I didn't wanna be alone! 'Cause I wanted to feel like I still had something even just for a few days... I was supposed to be gone by now but I can't even pull myself together long enough to..." he resisted the need to punch something, all that was around were the metal pole frames on the swings and the slide, they would surely break his hand and he wasn't in the mood for that today. "I'm sorry Sam, I promised you guys I wouldn't make you regret taking me in and look what's happened, look around you, your parents were ready to toss plates at each other last week! This is all my doing!"

"No Dean... it's not! My mom and dad have nothing to do with it! Please... if you don't want them then I'll come to you."

"I don't not want them, I just can't have any of it."

"Who told you that?" Sam's eyes narrowed at the familiar sounding words.

_Okay, changing subject now!_ "No one... it doesn't matter."

"Did Ron tell you that you couldn't have anyone? Is that it? That you mess people up so you don't deserve them? Did he say that?"

"Yes! Alright! He said it, and guess what? He was right!"

"No he's not, this is just a stupid argument and it's all his fault! It's all him! Not you! He did this to you!"

"Nobody did anything to me Sam," _please kid! Please don't make me out to be victim!_ Too many emotions coursed through him, some slippery and elusive, others aching to burst out, he felt if he stopped pacing he would surely explode.

"He did this to you, he made you this way, you can change it! Please Dean just come home." Sam tried shadowing Dean as he moved back and forth. Not giving him a chance to get away.

"I can't Sammy, I just can't." Frustrated, Dean turned to face his brother.

"Why? For me why can't you? You said you'd do anything for me, why can't you do this?"

"Sam I will do anything for you but please don't ask me to fucking rip up your family for you."

"I'm not asking you to rip up _our_ family, I'm asking you to come home."

"That's the same thing!"

"No... it's not, you running away is _fucking_ everything up, you coming home will make it all better."

"How? How can anything be better? Sam I just don't know what the fuck anymore! I don't know what I'm doing here, what I'm doing out there in the woods at night, I just... who the hell am I?"

"Dean, you're my brother! That's who or what you are! Please come home!"

"Sam I'm just a random fuck up in this world! I'm not a brother, a son, a nephew, nothing! Just a waste of oxygen and patience!"

"Stop it!" Sam screamed, his knuckles so tight his dry skin would likely crack at any moment.

"I can't!" Dean barked back... before he stopped and sank down in front of the bench, sobbing into his knees. Why wasn't anything black and white anymore? Good and evil, light and dark, happy and sad. Now there was just too much grey he couldn't think straight!

As Sam wrapped his arms around him, he felt a strange déjà vu, he was back a week ago, where he had hugged Sam in a bathroom when he cried, back to square one, nothing had got better, nothing had made Sammy happier, everything was just so much worse.

"I'm sorry Sammy, m'so god damn sorry," Dean bawled in misery.

He had stopped crying eventually, he didn't know when but it must have been some time because the sun was starting to set. Sam didn't let go though, no once.

"My legs are numb," he mumbled making Sam laugh as they both pulled away and went to leave the park, both red eyed and sore as hell, inside and out.

_**SPN**_

The farther Dean went from Sam, from the house that he had longingly gazed at while making sure Sammy got home okay, the more the hope that the kid had tried to give him faded away. By the time he walked the few miles to Steve's he couldn't take it anymore... that pain was building up again... he didn't like it, he wanted it to go away, he needed it to be gone.

He ran to the bathroom with the knife he now kept in the waistband of his jeans, pulled it out and slid the cold metal across his arm, not even waiting this time to stare at the blade beforehand. He sliced just above where he had cut himself the last time, it bled a little more than that one, it was strangely a relief it had, otherwise he might not have felt satisfied so he'd go ahead and cut himself again. He put the knife back before he could do any more damage. But for some reason when he had a little more physical pain, it made the emotional ones numb for a while. As he exited the bathroom and wandered the hall, pacing up and down, he wondered if these cuts were going to get deeper, longer, more risky, maybe even more exciting, maybe in just a few weeks, he'd be driving the sharp knife into his skin deep enough that he'd be bleeding out on the bathroom floor. He had to get control of this before it controlled him more than it already did, he was Dean freakin' Win... _Turner_ for crying out loud! Some sissy emo drama wasn't going to take him down... 'Here lies Dean, he killed evil, then killed himself,' that wasn't very noble to have on his grave stone.

Steve wouldn't be home for another three hours from work so he had some time to himself, but now he'd gotten rid of his feelings for a while, he didn't have many thoughts he wanted to be alone with.

Steve didn't have a punching bag so, there was only one thing for it, do his regular workout and run a good few laps around the town, that should do the trick, and kill a few hours. He needed to kill a few hours. Maybe if he was lucky, if he took the long way round to the park, Angus will have come back by the time he did.

_**SPN**_

The next few days were painful and long for everyone involved, Sam had visited the park at every opportunity when he realized Dean was avoiding him like the plague at school. Dean had obviously known he would try to see him because every time he went to the park, Dean was nowhere to be seen, the only trace of him being chunks of bread or cookies on the ground by the bushes he had favoured when Sam caught him Monday evening.

Dean hadn't had much of a better time either, school was always filled with weird stares or pitiful looks and one teacher had even called him up after class to discuss his sudden lack of motivation, in woodwork of all things, his favourite subject. He lied and conned his way through the conversation but it was clear that his teachers knew just how he had come to this town. He was still going to the same school since the beginning and with the TV news reports and so on back when things seemed impossible, it didn't take a genius to see the faint scar on his cheek and the other injuries from the attacks of Ron's ghost, and put two and two together. And teachers talked.

"M'fine sir."

"Well if you're ever not fine, we always have people here you can talk to Dean, if you ever need to get away there's the counsellor's office to go have a talk, okay?"

_Yeah, that's nice but no thanks. _He could swear that he felt his scars like a brand that glowed so bright that others could see. He didn't want their pity, didn't want their help, he needed... maybe he just needed something that didn't even exist.

"Thanks," he mumbled before showing himself out, he quickly sprinted through the corridors and out of the school, damn that was close! Running in no particular direction he found himself back at what was becoming his regular bench among the trees. Many of the leaves were falling now so his footsteps were cushioned as he approached and leaned over with his hands on his knees panting.

Swearing mildly to himself he sat and rested his head in his hands and wished that the whole world would just fuckin' go away and leave him alone. As his world shrunk to the cold wood under his butt and the gravel under his feet, he was startled when a cool moist _something _touched his hand. Instantly alert he started and found a pair of nervous brown eyes shooting back a few feet and looking back at him.

"Hey Angus, what's up?"

Pulling himself out of his fog he held his hand out to the little dog cautiously creeping forward.

"Sorry, dude I didn't exactly plan comin' here so I don't have anything for ya."

As the nose nudged his hand he let out a sigh as the dog permitted him to softly stroke his head. Soon he was settling himself next to Dean on the bench, with his head draped over Dean's thigh, eyes drooping lazily with contentment.

As Dean slowly petted the silky head and ears he felt himself calm and thought that maybe, just maybe, things could be alright. If a dog who looked like he'd gone through ten shades of hell could trust him, and Sammy and Mary and John said they wanted him back, then maybe there was a place for him in this world. Just as quickly as the thought arrived he dismissed it. He was marked, for real and forever, it wouldn't go away and he wasn't worthy of them ever being wiped clean. It was stupid to think that he could be anything or give anything to this world, delusional.

Gently he gave the bright head a final pat and stood to leave and ignoring the pleading look and hesitantly wagging tail, walked away.

By Wednesday, Dean was climbing the walls for a good hunt. He was vaguely surprised at the cold, hard need so different from his usual white hot frenzy where he'd go after any black dog, ghost, or wayward werewolf that crossed his path. This was different, this sudden calm eye. He wanted, wanted very badly, but if he was to be a hunter, like his parents, his _real_ parents, he needed to hone all the skills of a hunter in all of its phases - the search, the hunt and the kill. This one he would take his time with.

_**TBC...**_

**I had a pretty crap day, so I thought I'd post this to get me some lovely reviews that will no doubt cheer me up x **

**P.S. College starts again next week ***_**sobs**_**!* so a warning now, these updates might be slowed down, I hope not too much though cos my new timetable means I have every Wednesday and Friday off. ***_**Sigh**_*** That's something... I guess. Can you tell I hate college with a passion? LOL. **


	9. For the First Time

_**Does anyone have Tumblr? I'm new to it but I love it. I need some more peeps to follow so... anyone interested? The link is on my profile page and its my homepage link too. **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**For the First Time**

Thanksgiving, a day to be thankful. Yeah, what the hell was there to be thankful for these days?

_I got a good one!_ Dean smirked, _nothing, jack shit, absolutely fuck all!_

At least he could take comfort in the fact that he still had enough of himself left that he could make jokes, no matter how dark the humour. Idly flicking through the channels on the TV and sighing at the lack of good cable stations he could vaguely hear Steve muttering and clanging in the kitchen. It was really nice of Steve to put in the effort to make Thanksgiving dinner and he had tried to tell him not to bother, he really had, but his protests had been brushed away with a smile and a '_just wait 'til ya taste it kid'_. Yeah right.

He hoped that Steve cooked better than John and his lips unconsciously quirked as he thought back to last year's dinner. It had been too funny when the potatoes that John had been 'cooking' wound up burnt solid to the bottom of the pan. The smoke detector had gone off and Mary had been soooo mad that John had wandered off to watch football and didn't do the one job she gave him. She'd forgiven him though and really, the instant stuff wasn't so bad. Then later he and Sam had a rather lopsided game of touch football and he'd let Sam win. God he missed them, but at the same time he didn't want to be anywhere near them. He sighed tiredly and thought that maybe he'd bring Angus an extra special treat later.

Blankly watching the moving pictures on the screen his mind was more intently focussed on analysing and planning his upcoming hunt. He wasn't sure if his plan was stupid, he guessed he wouldn't know until he tried it and then, if it worked, it wasn't, but if things did go south, if the worst happened, it would be no loss. Slipping his eyes closed to doze, he welcomed the warm oblivion of sleep.

Startling awake from a fuzzy dream of being late for school, he frowned when he abruptly realized it was the door bell and he frowned, _who the hell could that be?_ He started to prick his ears in the direction of the front door in case he needed to make himself scarce if it was someone from Steve's work or family or whatever he wasn't supposed to be included in.

"Hey Uncle Steve, happy Thanksgiving." _Okay, that sounded too much like Sam to be true. _

"Same to you Sammy."

"It's Sam." _Oh hell__. _Dean swallowed what felt like his tonsils and could literally feel the little color he had left running from his face.

"Oh, touchy today. Hey guys..."

"Hey Steve, brought the pie, Dean's favourite." _Mary... check..._

"Babe, you made three pies." _John... check..._

"Well they're all his favourite alright?"

_Oh shit, shit shit shit! _

Switching the TV off, he swung his legs from the coffee table, stood from the sofa and straightened out his three day old clothes. He cleared his throat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, hoping the black soot would smudge off also. Trouble was the 'soot' he was referring to was actually deep black bags big enough to pack all his belongings in under his eyes. No amount of rubbing would clear them, only irritate and redden his lids which yeah, that'll make him look healthier, sure. Who was he kidding? He looked as crappy, sick and exhausted as ever, and he felt worse. He could only hope John, Mary and Sam wouldn't blame Steve for his deterioration this past week.

It was Sam who he saw first coming in the living room, behind him was Mary, and last it was John. Naturally Steve was hiding out in the kitchen still, which was good for him, he wouldn't get the deathly glare Dean was aiming at the wall right now, if looks could kill...

"Hey Dean," Sam was first to speak then too.

Dean gave a sharp nod without lifting his eyes from the floor, he was certain that if he looked up he'd say yes to anything the kid said. _Go play some ball? Sure! Have some pie? Sure! Come home? Sure!_ That just could not happen.

"You okay bud?" John did his best to act nonchalant without giving in to his need to rush over and shake the rumpled figure in front of him until he came to his senses and then hug him until his ribs creaked.

Sam could not believe his ears. _D__oes he freakin' look okay you idiot? He ran away because of you and your stupid ass mouth!_

"M'fine."

This is where Dean hoped that, 'if you told a lie enough times, it became the truth,' thing kicked in.

"How ya been?"

Dean took his seat again and twiddled the remote in his hands, god it was like talking to complete strangers only worse, because he knew them, for two freakin' years he knew them! They were his family!

"Fine."

_Okay... maybe a couple more times and that weird thing called 'truth,' starts to work its magic._

"Brought you pie, your favourite," Mary tried this time, smiling reassuringly. This was definitely not going as she had hoped. She thought that it might not be a good idea to not tell Dean they were coming but Sam, John and Steve were all certain that he would run.

"Thanks, m'fine." _She wasn't even asking a question that time you idiot!_

"Dean, we're not aliens. You don't have to do that honey, we know you too well for that to work."

"_M'fine_," Dean repeated stubbornly through gritted teeth, he heard the TV remote crunch alarmingly under the pressure he had gripped on it and, carefully putting it down, decided a deep breath or five were in order.

"Alright, we believe you." John awkwardly took a seat by Dean"So, who's playing today?" _Why was this so hard? Dean was his son! _

As they all sat in the living room, silent and stiff, John couldn't shake the sensation in his stomach that was quickly rising to the surface. It felt like they knew Dean inside and out, his every habit, like, dislike, every part of him they had down to a tee... but Dean didn't know them at all and they were meeting for the first time ever, introducing themselves, like it was, 'hey, I know who you are, you're Dean right? I'm John, this is Mary my wife and this is my son, Sam.' It was odd, and not in a good way.

"That hurt?" John asked when he noticed the red knuckles and split skin on Dean's right hand.

Dean shook his head, it only hurt as much as the rest of him.

"What did you do it on?"

Dean stayed silent, no one expected him to answer, least of all tell the truth, "Punched the wall."

Sighing in sympathy, John took Dean's hand in his, one thing only running through his mind, _please don't flinch, please don't flinch!_ He prayed, surprised when Dean kept himself still as he studied the hand before setting it back on Dean's knee, there wasn't much you could do for bruised knuckles at this point aside from let them heal on their own.

"The rest of you okay?"

Dean shrugged studying the carpet. "Yeah, m'good, thanks," he answered sincerely. He'd never admit it but he hadn't been able to stop the feeling of warmth at John's attention.

Everyone in the room was so wrapped up in watching Dean like a hawk –and didn't he know it- that no one even heard Steve enter from the safety of the kitchen. They all jumped when he spoke.

"Dinner will be at two, you guys wanna watch the parade 'til then?" Steve asked walking around to the coffee table. He retrieved the remote then handed it to Dean, he was calling the shots today, it was the least he could do for setting him up which he had obviously caught on because the glare he received was a nasty one.

Dean set the remote down without turning the TV back on and went back to gawking at the floor, he could feel every single eye in the room on him and he didn't like it one bit.

"M'gonna go brush my teeth," he mumbled slipping from the room to go upstairs, maybe he would hide out in the bathroom today, he wasn't leaving the house that was for sure, not with three adults to keep him in, not to mention Sam's puppy eyes of doom.

_**SPN**_

"Well, that went well," John grumbled as he watched the kid leave so fast there was a Dean shaped hole in the couch.

"He just needs time John, bit of pie in him and he'll be right as rain." Steve smiled and tried to be optimistic.

"Dean doesn't like rain," Sam reminded them all.

"Right as... snow then," Dean liked the snow, what kid didn't? The kid could stay as long as he needed but Steve sincerely hoped he'd be back with his family before the snow flew.

Sam didn't wait for anyone else to make a random uncomfortable attempt to make things seem better than they were, leaving just as he heard Steve asked if anybody would like something to drink. He stood from the floor he had sat himself down on a couple of minutes ago and went straight to re-tracing Dean's footsteps upstairs.

When he got there, he could hear water running behind a closed door. He debated with himself whether he should just charge in or not but the potential for embarrassment was just too great. "Dean? Are you okay?"

"Mmhhmm," was the muffled reply around from what he was sure was a toothbrush. Sam waited for the spit of toothpaste to carry on.

"Can I come in?"

"M'fine." Okay if it wasn't starting to be true by now, it never would be.

"Dean..."

"Sam I said I'm fine." No, he wasn't, his head hurt, his whole body ached, he felt sick, he needed sleep, his wrists were staring to sting, his brain was so numb thanks to the nightmares wearing his sanity down to almost nothing, he just wanted to feel human again. All he needed was an infection or a cut to be too deep next time he brought his knife out, and his ass was grass as they say. Lucky for him.

"Dean, come out, please, how many times have you been to brush your teeth today?"

There was the buzz of silence, "This would be the fifth," he replied shamefully, that was how many times had he woken up, gone to the bathroom to wash up, before sinking back down on the couch and drifting off, waking yet again then going to brush his teeth and rinse his face like it was another start to the day.

He unlocked the door and sat himself on the end of the tub waiting for the kid to come in, he expected Sam to have that look on his face, the one of sympathy, pity. Then he realized, Sam had never not once looked at him that way, his sympathy was mere understanding. It took just one hand on his shoulder for him to see why he missed the kid as much as he had this last week.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, too mature for his age.

"No... you?" Dean managed to scrape up enough energy to attempt a smirk, whether he pulled it off or not he didn't know.

"Nope, not really," Sam sat himself down next to Dean and tried to keep his eyes forward, Dean didn't like to be stared at, he liked eye contact but he didn't like to be studied and examined under a microscope like a damn lab rat.

"Hmm," Dean mumbled looking at his hands, it was dinner in a few hours, maybe he should wash them again.

"How many times have you done that today?" Sam asked as he stood by the sink with soap in his palm.

Dean shrugged, yup, Sam knew him well.

"Sam, really, I'm fine."

He was clutching at straws now, but it was like the last act of a desperate man, he didn't really have anything else to go at.

"Liar," Sam's tone was hard to read, Dean wasn't quite sure if it was meant in humour, or meant as a stab in the gut, maybe both?

"It's been said."

Sam could only sigh, he didn't know how to reply to that.

"If I ask you something, promise not to get mad?"

"Okay?" Dean was slightly worried now, Sam's usual 'promise not to get mad' conversations more often than not weren't the happiest of topics.

"Promise?" Sam pressed, eye contact now being used, Dean would appreciate that on this subject he was sure.

"Yeah, I promise." Dean was looking right back at him, no eye rolls toward the floor, no flicks to the bit of fluff on his shirt, complete and total attention to Sam, that was always a good sign. Sam took comfort in that and carried on.

"How come you don't even wanna consider this scar fixing surgery?"

"I dunno," Dean instantly shrugged, now fighting back the pain to even blink.

"Come on, you can't say its 'cause you're afraid of needles after what you've been through."

"It's not, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it? I mean, I know why..." _thanks to your email,_ "but I don't understand'...they remind you of who you really are'? What... what do you mean?"

"I-, I don't know." _Sorry kid, can't tell you, can barely tell __myself. _

"Don't give me that crap, just talk to me please or I swear I will kick your ass!"

"That'll be a neat trick. You think your scrawny butt could take me down?"

"Dean, you're changing the subject."

"And if you weren't such a brainiac you wouldn't have noticed."

Sam was frustrated, his brother was still stalling. He knew he needed to pull out the big guns and unleashed his most powerful weapon against which Dean had no defence.

Dean wilted underneath the puppy dog eyes. "Look, I need them, I already told you I need them, I'm not gonna say anything else on the subject, please just respect that I don't wanna talk about it anymore, you always used to."

_Well shit!_ Sam gasped, he hadn't realized... when did he stop being a brother and start being some asshole journalist fishing for information? "I'm... I'm sorry," tears stung his eyes and not once did they drop from Dean's gaze as the water dripped out.

"Sam, Sammy please don't cry," Dean begged, hating the pathetic plead in his voice.

"M'sorry, I didn't mean to." The tears brought hiccups and the hiccups brought sobs.

Dean placed his hands on Sam's jittering shoulders, god he hated it when the kid cried, he hated it so damn much he wanted to ring the neck of whoever made his brother's face look so sad, trouble was, it was kinda hard to ring your own neck without killing yourself for good.

"Alright, I know, I know I didn't mean it like that kid, I just... please just let me deal okay? Please I'll tell you sometime just... not now, not today." _Not ever if I can __put it off__ long enough._

Sam sniffled, wiped his eyes and spat something under his breath about being a baby.

"Hey, stop it," Dean warned squeezing Sam's shoulders before patting him on the back, no one was going to be mean to Sam, not even Sam!

The sides of Sam's mouth tugged upwards and it was a pretty good feeling when the tugs pulled hard enough to create a smile. As Sam did so, Dean felt a warm fuzz in the bottom of his stomach where the black hole had made a home for itself. Huh, seems like something wants it to move out!

_**TBC...**_

**I repeat, Tumblr anyone? :D **


	10. Pick up your feet and take me home

_**Sorry peoples! I had such productive plans for my day off today, I got up at 8, had my breakfast, brushed my teeth yada yada, then somewhere along the line I fell asleep again and didn't wake up till 3 in the afternoon. I've only been up a few hours and I'm tired already. I blame college, you can too! Off to watch Friends now and probably fall back to sleep. **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Pick up your feet and take me home**

Dinner was filled with chit chatting about nonsense, every damn topic under the sun that didn't involve Dean and the subject of coming home, it was weird how many things they could come up with when avoiding stuff. Dean had to hand it to them, they were doing a pretty good job, even gotten a few words out of him at one point.

But all that changed when they were all sitting on front of the TV watching the big football game stuffed with Steve's surprisingly good dinner. Even Dean had more than just picked at it and now had more dessert in his bowl than he'd ever seen in his life and it was kinda funny, Mary seemed to want to fatten him up or something.

He had just started in on Mary's pumpkin pie when she spoke the dreaded subject like she was talking about the weather.

"So Dean, honey, when do you think you'll be packing up here?"

Everyone was struck speechless. Dean couldn't think of a single word to force from his mouth, not one - what language did he speak again?

No one else knew how to break the sudden vacuum of air in the room so they all stayed perfectly still with their forks frozen in mid air.

"I- uh... I do-... it's no-... I'm so-, I-I..." _words Dean! Full words and then we'll work on sentences after!_

"It's okay, if you're not ready we understand. I got you some Lucky Charms and brought them just in case 'cause Steve said he was running out."

The sharp vice tightening around his chest was slowly releasing and letting him breathe again.

"Sorry." He lowered his head in shame, he messed up everything. Ron was right, just one fuck up after another, it ran through his veins he used to say and now he was starting to understand what he meant.

Mary glanced at her husband, no words needed to convey the worry and concern they felt, while John patted Sam on the shoulder, who was looking blindly at his plate, all appetite seemingly lost.

"So, do you think your team is going to win this year?" Steve forced cheerfulness into his voice. Seeing the tense faces and Dean losing the small measure of ease he had gained, he was determined to keep things going so that the troubled family could learn to talk again.

"Well I'm sure that they can move the ball, I just hope that it's forward," John offered jokingly, and it was enough to break the awkwardness and fill the void.

Not long after, Mary and Sam were washing up in the kitchen, chatting softly, Sam staring intently at the pots he was methodically drying.

John, Steve and Dean had been watching the rest of the game, only Dean knew the other two had spent more time sneaking glances at him than watching the screen. By half-time he was sick of the staring so he cleared his throat to be excused.

"Uh... can I go out for a while?" Dean had rarely asked that, but since Steve told him he needed to know where he was heading from now on, it was only polite, but the thing was, he wasn't asking Steve, he was asking John, who looked more than shocked Dean was looking at him while he spoke.

"Uh, yeah sure kid, where you going?"

"To see Angus," he replied simply.

"Sure, just stick close and don't be long." John cocked a questioning eyebrow at Steve who shrugged at the unfamiliar name.

Dean nodded then left the house through the kitchen door, running past a startled Sam before he even had a chance to ask where he was going. He didn't even stick around for them to debate with each other who Angus was.

"Maybe he's a friend from school," Mary suggested, but shrugged it off quickly when she saw her youngest upset he wasn't invited to come along.

_**SPN**_

When Dean got to the park, he sat himself down on his claimed swing seat and stared at the grey wind whipped sky. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he shivered as a gust seeped through his jacket and wished he had put another sweater on. He'd left without anything so he sincerely hoped there was nothing other than normal wildlife in the rattling trees.

"Hey boy," he grinned when he saw a black nose under the far bushes. "Where you been Angus buddy?" he asked walking over to the pup that had yet to come out. That was strange, the dog had been starting to come out to meet _him_. "What's up?" he frowned when again, the dog still didn't move, head resting solidly on his paws. "Come on man don't tell me you're sick of me too," he bent down near the dog but far enough away so he wouldn't nip at him like he tried once when he got too close too soon.

When Angus whined though, his tail thumped with welcome, Dean's heart sunk in worry.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you boy, it's okay," he whispered, slowly reaching out a hand to stroke him behind the ears. Angus leaned into the touch then struggled to stand and move a little closer before yelping. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Dean was very quickly aware Angus wasn't walking straight, he wasn't walking at all really. He scooted closer and his friend moved in too before his back leg gave out and he landed on his side.

"Whoa, dude you don't look so good." He stroked Angus' belly and waited for him to stop trembling and try and stand up again but he couldn't.

Without changing the soothing motion of his hand he looked closely at the ragged, still seeping, gash on the hind leg beneath the bloody matted fur as well as the other numerous marks and abrasions. From the occasional twitch when he accidentally hit a sore spot the poor guy was also one big bruise.

"Who did this to you buddy? Jeez, that's gotta hurt," fury rose in him at the asshole who had done this to Angus. A black thought crossed his mind that maybe he should change the target of his intended hunt.

Dean hated that he wasn't as well educated in doggie first aid as he was in human. Shit, now what was he supposed to do? Vets cost money, he didn't have any, and he was pretty sure Angus would flip out anyway if he went to some creepy animal hospital. He didn't blame the little guy, he knew exactly what it felt like to wake up in a big white building alone, surrounded by strangers and misery. He couldn't let that happened to the poor dude, the Winchesters hadn't let that happen to him!

That gave him pause. Yeah, the Winchester's had taken him in when he was hurting and had nobody and nothing... _Oh hell!_ The sudden burst of guilt was interrupted by the soft brush of a paw against his leg. Looking into the warm brown eyes he knew he had to make things right.

"It's okay Angus, we're gonna get you help, it's gonna be okay buddy, I promise you, you're gonna be fine."

Ignoring the cold he whipped his jacket off and wrapped Angus up in the fabric before he cradled him to his chest, praying he would be okay. He couldn't have anyone else die on his watch, he wouldn't! Angus might be just some stray but Dean understood what it was like to be unloved and a convenient punching bag.

He didn't know what he planned on doing after he got back to Steve's but maybe he or John would know what to do. They had to have had dogs when they were kids, right?

Furry head tucked under his chin, he walked as quickly as he could, careful not to jolt the pup too much, he'd been scared enough for one day.

Angus was whimpering but didn't wriggle much in his jacket. This wasn't a good sign, poor dog was freezing, hurting, and terrified. Dean started to jog, keeping his steps smooth but intent on getting the little guy some help as fast as possible. Alone and beaten - he'd been there many times before, it wasn't a pleasant place to be. He couldn't speak for Angus, but he knew what he needed in those times and what helped him, so he would do his best to get his new friend that same help.

He would make everything right.

_**SPN**_

Outside the house, Dean hesitated, not certain of either his or Angus' welcome. "It'll be okay," he whispered yet again, not sure whether he was talking to himself or the dog, he shifted to fit Angus under one arm so he could knock with the other, "Guys!" he yelled and then Steve's door swung open.

Mary was pleased, yet totally surprised and shocked at what she saw. Pleased that her son was back, though shivering in just a light sweater, surprised that he felt the need to knock, and shocked at the bundle which he carried in his arms. She could just see a pair of floppy ears and scared brown eyes in a rather battered, yet adorable face, hidden in the folds of his jacket.

Everyone always said Sam was King of the puppy dog eyes but right now Mary would have said Dean could have given him more than a run for the title as he turned them full force on her pleading for help.

"Oh honey what-, what happened?"

"I-I don't know, I just... I was at the park and I found him hurt... can you help him? I-, I don't know what to do." He'd never sounded so helpless, nor felt it in his life.

Dogs were a vets responsibility, she reminded herself. She didn't know where this dog had been and, as cruel as it sounded, she didn't know what germs or diseases he might be carrying, but Dean looked so hurt by this dog's condition she just couldn't tell him to put him down where he found him and come inside and wash his hands.

"John!" she called moving out of the way and signalling to Dean to bring the dog inside.

He stepped inside before moving into the kitchen next to Mary, unconsciously holding Angus tighter. Did he put him down on the floor? Did he lay him on the table? Did he take him upstairs to set him on a mattress? Such a pointless dilemma in all of this was making his mind spin so he decided to just stand there with Angus in the safest place for him right now - his arms.

Alarmed at the tone of Mary's voice, John was there in the doorway in record time. "Wha-, oh hell," he sighed when he saw the scene - one beaten to hell dog and one Dean doing his best to keep it together but barely being able to hide his shaking under the few layers of clothing he had left, what with the rest being wrapped around the bundle in his hold.

"I don't know what to do," to most people that would sound like a whine, but to John and Mary that was Dean doing his best efforts to beg for help, and make it sound like he wasn't.

"Steve, we need some help here man," John called around the door frame before he moved closer for a better look at the thing wrapped in his son's hold.

Not even Dean expected the dog to have enough energy to move so it was a big shock when he almost leaped from his arms and came close to tearing John's throat out. Dean scrambled to hold the suddenly struggling animal as he whined and tried to get away from the large, looming human.

"Whoa... I guess he likes me as much as you did when we first met... good job you came round huh?" John joked backing up for Dean to settle the mutt.

By now Sam and Steve had entered the room and both, like Mary and John, were trying to figure out a way to be helpful. But to everyone that came close, including Sam, Angus kicked up a fuss and ran the risk of hurting himself even more. His hind legs were kicking at Dean's ribs hard enough to leave some bruises and if it weren't for his heavy jacket being between him and Angus' nails, Dean would have been left with some damn deep scratches right now too.

"Hey boy, they're not gonna hurt you, why the hell would I bring you here if they would? You gotta relax, you're hurt and you're gonna make it worse."

_That dog whisperer guy would come in really handy right now._

"Let me try," Sam moved in closer again, carefully he extended his hand with his fingers closed for the dog to sniff ready to snatch it back if Angus snapped at him. When the dog cautiously checked out his hand and gave a tentative lick he moved past the sharp teeth and gently began to stroke Angus' head in a soothing motion that the dog relaxed into. Despite Sam scaring him the other day, and ruining his time with Dean, he began to settle enough to close his eyes and fall in a seeming exhausted sleep.

"Jeez, you and this little guy are like two peas in a pod," John complimented as they all watched Sam calm the dog like he had done Dean many times over the years.

"He's bleeding," were the only words Dean could get out now that the lump he was holding had stilled.

Steve left for his linen cupboard for several thick towels before he ran back to the kitchen and laid them on the floor so Dean could finally set Angus down and leave Sam to pet him anywhere there wasn't a bruise or cut.

"Think he needs stitches but, it's been a while since we had to do them," John commented both on Steve and Mary's behalf too when examining Angus's leg. They'd all had more than basic first-aid training, and John had put his to practice while a marine, but distance of time meant a fair bit of rust in their skill-set.

"He'll be okay?" Dean was trying to just say it in a statement but it certainly didn't come off that way when everyone looked at him in sympathy.

"We'll clean him up and see how he is when he wakes up. Dean why don't you run upstairs and get some bandages?" John was taking charge then, good, that was good, because Dean was close to losing it right now. Orders, John telling him what to do, would help, having a focus, a job to do, always helped.

"Top cabinet in the bathroom," Steve told him.

He ran upstairs knowing Angus was in safe hands, and after collecting the red box, he leaned against the bathroom wall and took in a few deep breathes before running back downstairs. He was relieved when he got back to the kitchen, there was no awkward talk from anyone, just silence and concern.

It didn't take that long to clean the dog's cuts and cover the worse ones. They were doing the best they could but it looked like a vet trip was definitely in order. John's heart pinched when he took note of the many scars on the pup's body - seems like Sam's ability to sooth them wasn't the only thing the dog and Dean had in common. Maybe that's why Dean was so upset, why he looked so close to a dog they had never even heard the kid speak of until today; maybe Dean related to him in ways none of them could understand.

As Dean stood back knowing he would just get in the way, Mary turned him around, tugged him from the room and lifted up his sweater without warning. She ghosted her fingers over the red marks from Angus' back paws and tried not to sigh in sympathy when Dean flinched at even her lightest touch. "I don't think it's too bad, if you need ice just ask okay?"

Without nodding, he pushed away her hands not wanting to be exposed anymore, no matter how good her intentions were.

She smoothed his top back down knowing when to back off, rubbed his shoulders in a comforting manner before she let him go back to the kitchen with the others.

As he took his place again behind John, Dean could see Angus was still out. That all changed when John had a feel for any broken ribs. The dog woke with a yelp, but his fight wasn't long lived before he gave in, whimpering softly, to the ones stronger than him. He'd just been through too much. As the pup stilled his churning on the kitchen floor Dean knelt down, taking Sam's place as the kid moved back. Dean held Angus carefully while John carried on feeling for any serious injuries and everyone else watched, waiting.

"Alright little guy, doesn't look like there's anything too bad besides your leg. You should be fine huh? Tough guy like Dean here, right?"

Dean felt a bittersweet sensation in his chest, his cheeks turning a healthy shade of pink before he brushed it off like his ears had fallen deaf and went back to stroking Angus' belly, avoiding the cuts there at all costs. When John moved over a little, Sam sat back down on the floor.

"Wish we could give him doggy Tylenol or something," Steve sighed packing up the bandages and trashing the bloodied cotton balls.

"Do you know what happened to him Dean?" Mary asked taking a seat by her sons on the floor.

"No, I just went to see him at the park and... he was hurt when I got there, I swear the sons of bitches that did this to Angus are gonna pay," his volume was low for the dog's sake, but his tone was deadly.

"So _this_ is Angus?" Sam asked, a relieved smile masquerading as a smirk. Dean wasn't ditching him or hanging around with any idiots then, that was good.

Dean nodded before he looked back down at the pained eyes that were killing him slowly, could they just turn it on and off or something? This was ridiculous!

"Stop looking at me like that! 'M not gonna let anyone else hurt you so you don't have to keep using your puppy eyes of doom. Come on Angus quit it," he grumbled when the dog wouldn't let up.

"I like that, Angus, good name," Sam smiled yet again stroking the dog that now either trusted him to be close or was too weak to snap at him again, he hoped it wasn't the latter.

The boys hadn't noticed the adults had left the room, they didn't know how much time had passed, how long they had watched Angus when he fell back to sleep while Sam stroked him and Dean muttered promises of how he was gonna take care of him - not un-like to the ones John had muttered to him a few years ago when he needed them.

When the dog snuffled awake, they fed him some left over Thanksgiving dinner and Dean smiled at the proof Angus' appetite was still intact when he almost ate his and Sam's hands as well as the turkey.

"Slow down dude, don't choke."

"I think he takes after you," Sam smiled angelically.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They stopped the banter when John, Mary and Steve all came back to the kitchen with rather sour looks on their faces. John kneeled down next to them and settled a hand on Dean's knee.

"Dean, uh... where did you find him?"

"The park," hadn't he said that already?

"Come on then."John stood up and took his keys from his pocket.

"What? Where?" shocked Dean looked to Mary and Steve for help but received none. It looked like Sam had even stopped breathing.

"The park, we gotta return this guy where you found him."

"Are you crazy?" he wasn't going to yell, he wasn't going to yell!

Angus' head snapped up and he barked loudly when he sensed Dean's distress.

"Dean, this might be stealing, he might belong to someone." Dean fumed, Mary was using her 'be reasonable' voice.

"So what if he does? It's not like they even care."

"Dean, he's gotta go back to the park son." John moved forward.

"So those bastard's can finish him off? Are you kidding me?" Dean hastily scooped the dog up and backing away towards the door, doing his best to sooth Angus when he began to whimper. His heart started to pound harder when out of the corner of his eye he could see Steve move to block his way.

"Dean, have you seen the scars on him? Who knows where he's been or what he might have done to-" John stopped himself deliberately.

"What? _'Who knows what he might have done to' _what? To deserve them? What he might have done for someone to hurt him like that over and over again?"

"Yes," John nodded coldly.

Mary looked to the ground, it was hard to see the tears on Dean's face as John kept pushing his buttons, but they didn't know how else to get through to Dean. This was an unexpected, gold-plated, opportunity and, though it made her wince, they would use it. She just hoped this worked and didn't break their family forever.

Sam just couldn't bring himself to speak, what the hell was his dad playing at? He was upsetting Dean, why was he upsetting Dean? Hadn't he done enough?

"Dean, he might have hurt someone, many someone's, they might have retaliated, he might be dangerous," Steve offered.

"So, he's got some scars, big deal! He's never hurt me! The people that hurt him are just assholes!"

Dean looked down at the dog who was now shaking and hiding his head under his arm.

"It's not his fault," Dean forced as tears streamed his face and dripped into the fur beneath his chin.

"Is it yours?" John asked softening his tone and expression.

Dean let out a small choke as he was left speechless.

"Are your scars, where you came from, what happened to you, is it your fault?"

Silence.

"Dean?" John pressed, his head tilted to the side in sympathy.

"I-I don't know... I thought it was?" Dean sounded so much younger than his sixteen years right now.

"Give or take a tail, you and Angus have got a lot in common, you don't think its his fault, you _know_ it's not. The same way we know none of your past problems - your anger, your scars, nothing - are your fault. You are not to blame for some asshole that thought he had the right to hurt you and leave you with a hell of a lot pain."

"But I-"

"Dean, if you could give Angus a clean slate, would you?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"We want to give you a clean slate, we just want to help. Can you please let us help?"

"I-I... I don't know... what do I have to do?" Dean was as open and vulnerable as John had ever seen.

John smiled, he missed this kid, the Dean he loved, the Dean that had let him father him, teach him, look after him. "Well _you_ can start by coming home... _we'll_ work out the rest."

Dean nodded, without any hesitation he nodded, he fucking damn nodded for all his worth he did.

"Wait... can Angus come too?" his voice was back to its normal, tough teenager state, though his expression might need a couple of minutes.

"Yes, Angus can come too, as long as you clean him up before he walks on my carpet." Mary's voice was stern but softened with a radiant smile and everyone laughed a little.

"Thanks... thank you."

_**TBC...**_

**Hope you like, I'm kinda nervous, chow folks! **


	11. Stiff Upper Lip

**Hey guys! Happy Supernatural day! We've made it past another hellatus! Go us! I was really looking forward to stopping up and watching it live but it seems there is no one that knows any live streaming sites for this evening, kinda gutted I must say, I keep telling my parents we should move to America but they still won't listen! GR!**

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Stiff Upper Lip**

Just as he started to nod off, Dean heard rustling and could feel his blanket bit by bit getting dragged off the side of his bed. _Not again._

He sighed and rolled over to face the one tugging on his covers, never before did he think eyes could pout but this guy just completely turned him around on the subject.

"Dude, your bed's down there."

Angus didn't quit, in fact he seemed to pout all the more and upped his game to include a soft whine and pawing at his bed.

"Is this 'cause you're hurt or 'cause you don't like sleeping on the floor?"

When they got home, Mary had collected every spare quilt in the house and piled them up on the floor in the corner of Dean's room stating they could go get him a real doggy bed and toys tomorrow.

But Dean had to admit, Angus' improvised bed looked pretty damn comfy, hell he wouldn't mind sleeping down there compared to some of the grotty motel beds he was once forced to lay in. But Angus didn't seem to like it that much, every time Dean began to doze after carrying him back to the corner, the little guy got straight back up and hobbled over refusing to be separated from his new friend and pack leader.

"Bed, _now_." Angus cocked his head at Dean's unconvincing growl and Dean huffed in frustration, "Yours is over there, Mary will kill me if you pee in my bed, and I won't be too happy about it either."

Angus barked softly in reply then scratched at Dean's covers again.

"Shh, you're gonna wake Sammy."

He sighed when he heard Sam laugh, okay the kid was never asleep. Sam had also gotten a bed on the floor much like Angus after begging Dean for a camp out in his room. He said it was to celebrate him coming home but a part of Dean couldn't help but think Sam was just trying to keep closer tabs on him now.

"Fine," Dean groaned pulling back his covers and lifting the pup onto his bed. "No doing your business on my quilt, got it?" Right now he was supremely thankful that John had insisted the dog have a thorough bath in Steve's bathroom before he would let him in his car.

Angus made a sound that seemed to say 'yeah, I got it.' Before he curled up at the bottom of Dean's bed and set his head down. He was asleep in minutes.

"Unbelievable." Dean had spent half the night worried out of his skull for the little guy thinking he was scared or hurting worse than they thought when he kept wriggling and whimpering on the floor. Looks like he just wanted to thieve half of Dean's bed, typical!

"Night Dean," Sam whispered from the opposite side of his bed.

"Night Sammy."

"Night Angus," Sam turned over once more and he too was asleep quicker than Dean could comprehend.

"You two are so gonna gang up on me aren't you?" he asked to no one in particular before he laid his head down on the cool part of his pillow and closed his eyes, praying for the nightmares to stay away, just for tonight. It was a good day despite Angus' attack and the awkward shit before.

He had come home. He felt like he knew it was his home, even though yeah, Steve was a cop, he had a nice gun, he hadn't felt safer with him than he did right here.

Not to mention, he had more of his prized weapons here, the ones he would need for his new project in a few weeks. He would have to stow the research for this weekend though, the Winchester's wouldn't be letting him out of their sight until they were sure he wouldn't pull a Houdini again anytime soon.

Either way, it was damn good to be back...

_**SPN**_

Sam woke to the soft sounds of snoring and he sat up quickly when he realized that it was two very distinct sounds that he was hearing. It took everything in him not to laugh loud and hard. Dean was sprawled in the middle of the bed with Angus' head on his shoulder, curled protectively around him despite his injuries. Each was lost deep in sleep with Angus snuffling and twitching as though dreaming while Dean snored softly beside him. They were gonna be okay then, Angus _and_ Dean. They looked pretty damn peaceful right now, but Sam would give anything for a camera at this moment. If he told Dean, he would never believe he slept like a baby with a twenty pound pup guarding him.

Tiptoeing quietly so that he wouldn't wake them he slipped out to the kitchen for breakfast; maybe his mom would cook something special for them. He was pretty sure Dean would rather hurl than munch on another bowl of his usual Lucky Charms today, and for a very long time onwards.

"Hey sweetie, pancakes?" she asked as soon as he stepped foot through the kitchen door. Sam smiled and nodded. "Dean still asleep?"

"Like a log, do we have a camera?" Sam asked taking a seat at the table.

"Don't be mean," she joked turning over the pancake in her pan.

"I like Angus," he commented randomly, it wasn't very subtle but... he wanted to know if his mom did too, and that yesterday she wasn't just saying it to get Dean home.

"Me too. Your dad's in the garage looking for things we can give him, if you wanna go help? Breakfast should be ready in about five minutes."

Sam nodded, his smile brightening all the more, yup, his mom loved Angus. Hopping off his chair he moved to the garage where he found his dad crouched over, sorting through a few boxes.

"Dad?" Sam walked over to peer at the odd assortment of items. "Find anything?"

"Not much," his dad looked up holding a chipped dish, "a bowl we can use for water and... a few old balls he could play with but nothing fantastic. We'll go out and get some stuff when we're done at the vets."

"Vets? I thought he was okay." Sam's face fell and he could feel a cold wash down his spine. He couldn't take it, _Dean_ couldn't take it if something serious was wrong with Angus.

"Seems to be, he was shuffling around enough yesterday. But he's been through a lot and he's got to be checked out, make sure his shots are up to date and stuff." Carrying his prizes John straightened up and dusted himself off, giving his son a reassuring smile.

Sam gave what he hoped was a positive response but his mind was whirling. He knew it was for Angus' own good, but only one thing was running through Sam's head, _Angus had to be okay, Dean would be truly shattered if he wasn't__!_

_**SPN**_

"Come on boys, we gotta go," John called waiting at the door.

Dean was still scrambling around with Angus gamely hobbling behind copying his every step as he searched his room, tossing bed covers off, looking under his bed, under his desk, everywhere and still coming up empty.

"Dean it's time to go sweetheart," Mary was at his door with one of those smiles that killed him; so normal it hurt.

"Um... have you seen my jacket?"

"Black one?"

Dean nodded, hope building in his chest.

"I'm sorry sweetie I tossed it out, it was kinda ruined when you were carrying Angus." He knew it had a few rips in it thanks to the pups claws but he didn't think it was that bad.

"Oh."

"_Oh_? What's up? I can probably-"

"No it's okay I just... it's fine, I'll wear my other one."_ Except I don't have another one._

She sighed and frowned at the expression on his face when he made no move to pick up another jacket from his closet. Walking over she opened it herself and her heart sunk when she saw nothing but shirts and jeans, and they were few and far between. Dean didn't have another jacket, of course he didn't, he barely let them buy the one he had, never mind a spare. He always pushed away so hard when they tried to buy him things, but that was no excuse as to why she let Dean's closet get this bare and not even notice. How could she?

"How about we go shopping in a few days, get you another one..." _and several other clothing items too if I have anything to say about it_, "When Angus is settled in?" _Okay, and you too._

Dean nodded, except he didn't want another, he wanted the one she threw out. He liked that jacket, he didn't know why, wasn't anything special, just a black jacket with pockets. But he didn't have any regrets for letting Angus use it when he was in need, not one.

Before Dean knew it, he was out the door with the rest of them, carrying Angus who was thoroughly distracted to the goings on and constantly sniffing Dean's new jacket, well, John's old one. It must not fit anymore or something because Dean had never seen it until today. It was well worn, thick brown leather and to say it was big on him would be a bit of an understatement. He'd had a growth spurt and it at least fitted his broad shoulders somewhat, but otherwise it would be a bit before he could fill it out. When he looked at the creased sleeves and loose bits of thread in places, he knew the jacket had seen some action in its time. He liked it though, it felt right, it reminded him of the one his dad used to have, only this one didn't smell like gun powder, _yet_, he added consciously at the end.

_**SPN**_

"I know, I don't like it here either," Dean whispered, stroking and trying to calm Angus as they waited for him to be called up. It was creepy as hell here, worse than a human hospital. Looking around the waiting room he could see a few other dogs and someone carrying a box that moved – he didn't want to know what was in there.

Angus hadn't thrown the fit Dean expected when Sam told him where they were going today before the pet shop, but the little dude didn't look impressed either. Angus looked hurt. Betrayed? Almost. Scared? Definitely.

It was the trembling that got him though. He could feel, and see, the non-stop minute shivers which were racking Angus from nose to tail. When the trembling became accompanied by soft whining and panting, _he_ wanted to head for the hills. He tried to kid himself that the shaking was because the room was so cold and Dean kicked himself mentally for not bringing the salt. But then he figured it was just the air conditioning, not a ghost of a killer veterinarian.

He couldn't wait to get back to the car where Sam and Mary were waiting.

"Angus Winchester?" an old guy with a clip board asked. Dean couldn't help but smile at the name. Had John given that to him? If so, all of Dean's scepticisms over whether or not they would let Angus stick around longer than a week were gone.

John stood up first, and Dean was glad he did, he wasn't sure he would move on his own if he hadn't led the way first. He really, _really_ hated this place.

"They won't take him away will they?" Dean asked picking a too quiet Angus up and following John and the old guy who he presumed was the vet.

"No, they won't Dean, promise kid."

_At least someone's optimistic huh? _He looked at Angus in his deep brown eyes and something told him the little guy was thinking the exact same thing.

When they got to the small and, if possible, even creepier room, Angus was too freaked out to put up a fight. As much as it hurt to watch, it was probably a good thing. He only snapped once when the vet went to check his teeth, they didn't look too healthy so he didn't blame the little guy.

The vet gave Angus a thorough once over, and was more empathetic than Dean or John could have guessed. They didn't even have to tell him they found Angus at the park, he just seemed to know he was a stray and applauded them even.

"Most people just walk past a beaten up cat or dog and don't bat an eyelid." He was looking at John when he said that rather vague compliment.

"Not me doc, it was my son that found him."

"Well, it's nice to see some people still care about animals. Especially a young man like yourself."

Dean blushed, went back to concentrating all his thoughts on Angus because he wasn't the smoothest of people to accept a compliment, his usual routine was turn red, then pretend like it never happened.

"It's a shame, all these poor homeless animals getting attacked around lately. Just yesterday I found a cat dead on the side of the road, beaten like Angus here."

Dean ground his jaw and forced himself to calm down when he noticed Angus get even more tense under his hand, if that was even possible.

"So what's the verdict doc? The little guy gonna be okay?" John rubbed his thumb up and down on Angus' ear, pleased he was beginning to take to him, okay take to him might be a stretch, but at least he wasn't in a mood to rip his jugular out anytime soon.

"Well, other than the cuts and bruising, which should heal up just fine, Angus does have most signs of neglect that I expected, malnourishment, some dental issues, his front leg looks like it was broken at one point and some obvious scarring," Dean felt a lump in his throat at those words.

He felt a hand on his back, settling him, rubbing a few circles the vet didn't see before it was taken away when Dean had composed himself.

"Are you alright son?" the vet asked when he noticed the pale boy turn almost gray.

Dean nodded sharply, not quite trusting his voice just yet.

"Despite all that, Angus does seem to be okay, no fleas, no signs of any diseases he might have picked up out there which is rare in abused dogs... but-"

At that moment Dean felt something rush through his heart, it hurt, it hurt like a freakin bitch! It burned and scolded the inside of his chest. Wasn't it just totally fucked up that stone cold worry actually hurt physically?

"B-but?"

"He does seem to have suffered some head trauma at some point, probably when he was just a new born, and it's clear that some sort of blow has lead to some long term, if not permanent damage."

"What does that mean?" John asked placing his hand on Dean's back yet again, hoping his offer of comfort would earn some trust back between them.

"Essentially, Angus is blind in his left eye."

_Angus only had one eye? His left was freaking blind? Fuck! _

Dean couldn't stop the fist that punched the metal table, causing everyone but he and John to jump.

Angus whined and curled into himself protectively, favouring his bad leg, clutching it close to protect it from further harm.

"M'sorry," Dean went back to stroking Angus, "Didn't mean to scare you buddy, it's gonna be alright, I promise."

"On the bright side, Angus does still have one perfect working eye. In most cases like this, the blow causes complete blindness in both, so I know it might not seem like it now, but Angus is very lucky."

Lucky? _Lucky_? He was supposed to see that Angus was lucky? _He was freaking half blind for fuck sake!_

"Anything else, doc?" John too couldn't wait to get out of this place. It took everything in him not to wrap both Dean and Angus up in his arms and run back to the car, back where Angus wasn't partially blind and back when he was just a stray dog with a cut or two.

"I just want to get some x-rays for that leg and, depending on what that shows, we'll wrap it accordingly."

Dean knew it was useless to ask, but he did anyway, "Can I stay with him?"

"I'm sorry sonny, but it'll only take a couple of minutes. You can wait with him until then though."

Dean did as he was told, silent and rigid and really not happy about it, but he left the room when he was told to with John, who still had a hand on his back of which he was thankful for. When they were called back, and the x-rays were developed, they found out Angus' leg wasn't broken and was bandaged up again, no stitches were even needed. Dean swore to himself and Angus again that he would find every damn son of a bitch that ever laid a hand on his guy, and beat them to a bloody pulp, ever single last fucker!

They were given some information on Angus' diet and teeth, told to come back in a few weeks to check his leg, handed a few pain pills and antibiotics, and sent on their way to the front desk to pay.

"Sir, that will be-"

"Dean, you wanna take Angus to the car?" John asked cutting the woman off before she could spout the costs of Angus' check up, not to mention x-rays and pills and follow up appointments. Although he loved Angus, Dean would probably have an aneurism when he heard the number; John knew he would like it very much if Dean's head didn't explode in a vets reception office.

Sighing, Dean nodded, holding Angus a little closer before he left for the car. He hoped Sam was in the mood to cheer him up today, god knows he needed it!

"How did it go?" Sam asked when he got in the car.

"It sucked."

Sam looked at the pair and sighed in sympathy, Angus wasn't moving from Dean's arms like he had on the way here, he wasn't sniffing and barking with excitement over new surroundings, he looked worn out and petrified, and Dean was his spitting image.

"At least you get to keep him. Now we just have to get him better."

Dean couldn't help but smile, god he loved that kid, he always saw the silver lining in everything.

When John got to the car, Angus' prescriptions and next appointment in hand, they drove to the pet store and Mary and John picked up almost every conceivable object in the dog toy aisle that Angus seemed to have an interest in, which of course was almost everything. But Dean didn't give a crap about money for the first time in a long time, he'd find a way to pay them back, spend time at the shop again, wash customers cars, fix a few bits here and there that he knew how to do. Whatever. He'd figure it out later, all that mattered right now was keeping Angus happy. The second they walked through the door and he saw all the bright shiny new toys, the little guy was on top of the world, and Dean had to admit, he was pretty happy now too.

By this time Mary was off picking out a bed and John was busy on another aisle working out which food the vet said would be best and trying to find some dental sticks to strengthen his teeth.

Dean was at the top of the shop with Angus trying to not have a meltdown over how many damn collars and leads there were. "I'm liking this one."

He picked Angus up to show him the collars, namely one in particular, it was brown and nicely pimped out with silver studs. Ironically it matched perfectly with the jacket John had loaned him... one he planned to keep if he could.

Angus barked quietly and Dean took that as a yes so he picked the collar up and added it to the basket.

Wandering along Dean couldn't believe some of the stuff that was on sale. "You're a little too awesome to be wearing one of those, and no way in hell are you ever wearing _those_." Dean sneered in disdain on Angus' behalf at the dog harnesses and matching sets of fluffy dog sweaters and booties. Angus would be the rocking-ist dog of them all if he could manage it, but he wasn't going to be buying him a school boy uniform to match the real Angus... no friggin' way!

He frowned when he noticed he was alone, "Sam?" he asked when the kid was nowhere in sight, weren't they meant to stick together while John and Mary went off looking for the other stuff? "Sammy?" he called a little louder.

"I'm over here," a muffled voice replied from the other side of the shop.

"Where?" Dean set Angus down to hobble at the side of him as he went in search of Sam.

"Stay there, it's a surprise, you and Angus can't look yet."

"At what?"

"Well it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you would it?"

Dean sighed, mostly for dramatic effect for Angus. Fine, they'd pick out a lead to match the collar while they waited.

He picked up what looked like a basic one and hummed happily when he put the two together and they matched.

Mary found him a few minutes later pushing her own cart with a nice sized soft cushion laid in the bottom. "I thought this one was the best to fit at the end of your bed," she informed with a bright smile and Dean couldn't help but give in to.

"It's awesome, thanks. And... thank you for... everything, for letting me keep him and... yeah." He was so bad at this.

"You're welcome sweetie, again. Now, come on, let's see what he thinks." She motioned for him to set Angus down in the cart and he did. It didn't take long for him to start rolling around happily on the padded bed with his paws in the air. "I think he likes it," Mary commented in awe as Dean grinned, really grinned as he leaned over the cart and scratched Angus' belly. Damn, if she had known that this was what it would take to help Dean she would have bought him ten dogs years ago!

John was the next to come back with his cart full of the toys they picked out earlier and a couple of bags of food and a few packets of treats.

"Where's Sam?" Mary asked.

"He's over there somewhere doing something, I don't know. He said it was a surprise and me and Angus had to stay here." Dean gestured vaguely to the other side of the store.

"Well, alright then," John eyed what they had and figured it had to be enough, "you guys go to the check out, I'll go find the squirt, be back in a sec."

Mary moved to the cart John was pushing to let Dean take the one with Angus in it.

The numbers blinking by as the stuff went through the checkout seemed to almost blur in front of Dean's eyes, the amount was phenomenal and rising by the item. His earlier ease was gone - he was gonna have to clean a hell of a lot of cars to pay them back for this!

Mary must have seen his not so well disguised panicked expression because she placed a hand on his arm another on his chin and forced him to look at her. "Dean, you have never asked for anything, not once, we owe you all this and more okay? Just relax sweetie, your job is to take care of Angus, let us worry about the costs okay?"

"O-okay," _I will not freak out, I will not freak out!_ He chanted unable to take his eyes off the rising total, that was until Angus made a whiney sound. He was worried at first the little guy was scared or hurting, but it turned out he wanted his new toys which had been taken away and put out of his reach.

"Take him to the car, we'll be right behind you honey."

Mary handed him the keys and the bright blue rubber ball Angus seemed particularly interested in that had already gone through the scanner and sent the pair on their way.

John came back a few seconds later, Mary bagged the stuff up while John paid.

"About time Sammy," Mary said as her youngest came hopping to the till with a small box in his hand.

"Can I pay for this on its own?" Sam asked the cashier who nodded with a polite smile.

"What have you got there?" Mary asked, smiling at the fact that Sam wanted to pay for it himself.

"Surprise."

"He wouldn't even show me when he was messing with that machine." John stated juggling the bags and new dog bed until he was balanced.

"What machine?" Mary was intrigued.

"There's a thing over there that lets you make your own dog tags, pretty cool."

"Dad, you're ruining it! Don't tell Dean."

"Sorry kiddo, mum's the word, scouts honour."

Sam paid for it and was thankful the cashier looked in the box to make sure everything was okay very discreetly without showing his parents.

"Thank you," Sam smiled when he got his receipt and left the shop with his mom and dad.

As he followed behind back to the car, Sam sneaked a glance one last time at the tag in the box... yup, Dean was gonna love it!

_**SPN**_

Dean had just finished re-bandaging Angus' leg for the night and coaxing him to take his pills when Sam walked into his bedroom with an expression on his face he usually reserved for times like Christmas.

"I got you and Angus something."

_Well that explains it then,_ Dean thought.

As the older boy looked up at him, Sam held out the small box and smiled nervously.

"What's it for?"

"I dunno, just... open it."

Dean took the box as he was told to, and opened it when Sam sat down and started stroking the pups head.

Dean smiled, it was a dog tag, it was red with silver engraved letterings on both sides. The front side read, "Angus Winchester." Dean turned it over and looking the other side, it was the logo for AC/DC. Lightning bolt and everything.

"How did you do this?" Dean asked in awe.

"They had a machine."

"How did you do the AC/DC thing? And how'd you even know I named Angus after them?"

Sam shrugged, "I kinda messed around with the machine, it was easy, and you talk about them all the time so it's a little hard not to know who Angus is after, I'm just glad you didn't call him 'Zeppelin kicks ass,' or something."

"It was a possibility," Dean said and Sam almost believed him, if it wasn't for the grin, "but, it was too long, and he looks more like an Angus to me."

Sam nodded, he couldn't agree more.

Dean tickled Angus' neck until he lifted his chin far enough for his owner to clip the name tag onto his new collar. He smiled when Angus jingled it happily before setting his head back down on his thigh.

"He looks tired," Sam commented, still stroking the pup but doing it a little lighter now.

"I think it's the pills." Dean thought about saying come on let's leave him alone to sleep, but he really didn't think Angus would appreciate waking up all by himself. So they both stayed sat in the corner of his room, watching over Angus, talking quietly about everything and nothing, lulling him gently to sleep.

_**TBC...**_


	12. Wish you Well

_**Quick question, is one chapter a week acceptable for you my peeps? Just checkin' you guys are happy bunnies is all.**_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Wish you Well**

"No Angus, stay," Dean tried, using the voice that dog whisperer guy uses when controlling pups, but Dean couldn't quite get the hang of it because Angus was seemingly doing just about everything he was told not to do. "_Stay_," he warned pointing his finger to the doggie bed Angus was inching further out of the closer he got to the door. "Angus sit!"

The dog whined at his harsh voice but retreated back to the bed as commanded.

Dean sighed, dropped his school bag on the floor and walked back to the corner of his room where the dog was pouting and turning his head away.

"Hey, come on I'm sorry, I just gotta go to school, I'll be back later. We can go for a walk or something, but right now you gotta stay here and be good. Don't trash my room okay?"

Angus barked then held his paw out, Dean took it then gave him a quick pat on the head before he stood and left with his school bag, closing the door behind him so Angus wouldn't go wandering around the house getting into things he shouldn't. Mary may like the dog, but she still didn't trust him with her cream carpet and Dean didn't want to push his luck. He just hoped Angus used the box that was meant for his business and eat the bowl of food, not his quilt cover. But he couldn't quite leave the dog outside yet because his leg hadn't healed completely, and running around in the yard ran the risk of him escaping, or worse, something or someone getting in and hurting him again.

"Dean, ready hun?" Mary asking jingling the car keys in her hands.

"Where's Jo-" _too forward Dean!_ "How come you're not at work already?" he tried again, tying his boots and picking up John's old jacket.

"John's staying home so I'm dropping you kids off and going to work later."

Dean frowned, since when did John just stay home when there was no one in the house for him to watch? He only did that when he was off school or Sam was, both usually for totally different reasons Dean didn't want to think about today.

"How come?" he didn't like being nosey at the best of times, but he couldn't quite shake off the ting of worry in his chest right now.

"He's just a bit under the weather today."

Now that was weird, Sam was always the first _and_ last member of the family to catch bugs, he never got _sick_ sick but if something was going around in the winter, Sammy would be the one laid up in bed for a few days.

"Come on, you boys are gonna be late."

He walked behind her and got in the car next to Sam who was already waiting. "Is Angus okay alone?"

"He's a good guy, he'll be fine,"_ I hope. _"Besides, your dad's home with him."

"Oh, I know, I think it was Steve's broccoli, dad's the only one that ate it," Sam joked. It wasn't much but it made Dean feel better. If Sam wasn't all that freaked about his dad being laid up in bed for the first time in... hell the only time Dean's ever known, it couldn't be that bad, right?

Mary drove them to school, not quite as fast as John usually drove but it was better than walking or riding on the bus. The boys usually walked to school these days, ran if they were feeling energetic. Dean had run to and from school every day while he was at Steve's, so today was a nice change, but he and Sam both knew Mary couldn't be late for work every day this week, and John would probably be in bed for at least a day or two so... the chauffeuring wouldn't last long. It was nice though while they had it though.

They waved Mary goodbye, then walked through the school gates, Dean stopped when it was time for them to part ways.

"Meet you at break later?"

"Yeah!" Sam's face lit up, it had only been a week when Dean had been avoiding him at school and every time before, after and between, but it felt like forever since they had met up for break. Sam had friends, but it wasn't the same.

Dean smiled, then twisted it into a smirk, "See ya Sammy," he ruffled the kids hair then turned back and walked to his side of the school, maybe things were getting back to how they should be. He could at least savour the times like this, the normal times, at least until the sun went down and the freaks came out in the moonlight. Then the nice semi-normal Dean Winchester would be gone, and the revenge driven pissed at the whole world Dean Turner would kick that sissy's lily white ass and take his place. Who knew alter ego's were so competitive?

_Okay Dean, that's just nuts, even for you, just shut up and go to class!_

He shook off his weird mind trail and went to his lesson, doing his best to convince himself he wasn't going to have a mental breakdown any time soon.

_**SPN**_

"Where home!" Sam yelled dropping his bag at the door and kicking off his shoes. Before Dean could even think about setting his own bag down, he was bombarded by an over-excited pup pawing at his legs.

"How did you get out?" he asked kneeling down and stroking Angus until he calmed down. Looked like the side effects of his pills had worn off fast, over the weekend at this time Angus was deep in dream world.

"I took him for a quick walk," a rougher voice than usual said from the lounge, followed by a long rasping coughs and even Sam glanced towards the far room with a worried look on his face.

They both resisted the urge to ask John if he was okay, kids didn't ask their parents if they were okay, it was the other way around, moms and dads were always okay. It was a rule.

"Was he good?" Dean asked smiling down at Angus when he was followed to the living room and the little guy's hobble was getting better by the day.

"Damn straight," John smirked moving his eyes from the TV to his boys standing at the back of the sofa. "You kids have a good day?"

Both of them shrugged, they went to school, it wasn't anything to write home about.

"That doesn't look half bad on you kid," he commented when Dean took the leather jacket off that was once his quite a long time ago, longer than he would care to admit.

"Thanks. Is it okay I'm using it?" Dean bit his lip nervously, he'd been wearing it all weekend and only now had anyone commented on it.

"Sure, I got some other stuff in boxes in the loft if you kids ever wanna go through it."

"Cool, can we get 'em out later?" Sam asked. They'd never been through his dad's old junk with Dean. Then he took a look at the cold relief pills on the coffee table and remembered his dad might not be up to climbing the steps to the attic today. "When you're better."

"I'm perfectly fine kiddo. If you wanna get 'em out today, we'll get 'em out today. We'll wait until your mother's home and she can look through the stuff with you."

"Okay," Sam couldn't argue with that, although he felt a twinge of guilt looking at his dad's pale face and hearing yet another cough. Neither could Dean, who was rather pleased to look at some old stuff, learn more about who John and Mary were. He'd never gotten the chance to keep much of his parents stuff so... this might make up for it a little.

Sitting together watching TV while waiting for Mary to come back from work, Angus' head laying with his eyes drooping in his lap, there was a long missing air of security and wellbeing that Dean had been craving. Or at least there was until John started hacking up his lungs halfway through the Malcolm in the Middle re-run.

Dean glanced at his brother, he knew Sam was thinking the exact same thing._ So much for John being perfectly fine. _

Taking their eyes from each other, both boys moved to see John turn a painful shade of red. Angus looked concerned too, standing from Dean's lap and going over by John to sniff in curiosity over the strange wheezing sound.

"You okay dad?" Sam asked when the bout of coughing was over.

"M'fine kiddo, frog in my throat." When Sam scowled at the baby phrase John couldn't help but snort, sometimes he forgot how old Sam was, but his snorting only lead to more coughs. They sounded heavy and thick; it wasn't pleasant to hear.

Dean waited until the second round was over before he excused himself and fled to the safety of his bedroom. He wasn't hurt when Angus chose to stay by John's side.

He sat down on the side of his bed and tried to remind himself it was just a cough, a bad cold at most. But that was damn scary, John was sick, actually sick. He'd never known the man to be anywhere near the vicinity of weak before. He just couldn't get his head around it.

"Dean? You alright son?" John asked poking his head in the gap he'd left in his doorway in his panic. John was pale, clammy, and to sum it up, sick as a dog, but the second Dean thought that, he felt sick himself. Sick as a dog? What the hell did that even mean?

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, I think I'm gonna go for a run or something."

"Aright, don't stay out too late though, and come back before it gets any darker."

_Guess Steve told him about the missing kids._

"I will." He wanted their conversation to end there, but just as John turned to leave, the man was forced to clear another clog from his throat. It was just a small cough this time, but it still didn't sound right. "Um... I uh... are y-... areyouokay?" Dean blurted out keeping his eyes on the floor.

John smiled, he couldn't help but feel bowled over by the concern. His head was pounding, throat on fire and his lungs hated him, but his kids asking him if he was okay left the best feeling inside he'd not felt in a long time_. I should get sick more often._ "I'm fine bud," he didn't say anything else, he still couldn't quite believe his ears so he couldn't really think of anything else.

Dean nodded. "Good," he breathed, not meaning for John to have heard the relief in his voice but, by the look on the man's face, he had.

John was smiling again, but he kept all phrases that would embarrass Dean inside, just said a polite, "Have a nice run champ," instead.

_**SPN**_

As much as he thought he needed to, Dean didn't go on a long run, alternatively he ran to the local library about five minutes tops from home and stopped. He jogged inside and headed straight for the computers.

He didn't know how long he was there, he lost track of time so badly when he was busy with research but the tap on his shoulder was all he needed to bring him back. He looked to the window and cursed when he saw it was pitch black and pouring down. He turned to the old woman behind him tapping her watch now and sighing rudely, mostly for dramatic effect.

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled printing off as much as he could in a few seconds before he shut the computer down, picked up his papers and left.

He shoved the research in his inside pocket, glad the jacket was too big and was able to hide them before he sprinted back home, working on his sorry speech as he legged it.

He was breathless and soaked through when he got back. He shook off the excess water, pealed his jacket off, pressed pause on the guilt for getting that ruined when it wasn't even his, then kicked off his shoes on the mat and pulled off his squelching socks. He rolled up his sweats so the mix of mud and rain on the bottom of the legs wouldn't mess up the carpet. He took a few seconds then turned his best attempt at puppy eyes on and made his way to the rattling sounds in the kitchen.

"Sorry, I kinda got turned around somewhere near the grocery store and got lost."

Although Mary highly doubted that Dean got lost -when he knew the town like the back of his hand by now- she didn't let it show.

"That's okay sweetie, as long as you're home," _safe_, Mary added internally. "Ready for dinner?" she asked making her way past him to go to the fridge. She was glad she came home late and hadn't had the chance yet to turn the oven on.

"Yeah, can I get a shower before?" Dean asked motioning to his dripping hair and drenched everything else.

"Sure, it'll be ready when you come out."

She smiled at him, then wiped the drip of rain that had run from his now flattened spikes of hair onto his eyebrow, catching it before it drizzled into his eye. He smiled back, then tip-toed away. After looking over his shoulder, he snagged his research from the jacket pocket at the bottom of the stairs and slipped into his bedroom, stuffing the papers between his mattress and bed frame. He made his way back out of his room, pulling his sweats up that were slowly unravelling at the bottom.

He spared a quick glance at the living room on his way past. John was laid out on the sofa, his feet hanging off the end, with his mouth hung open and his hands clutching the throw that was draped over him as he shivered ever so slightly, even in sleep_. I repeat, perfectly fine my ass!_

As he made his way upstairs to where the shower was, he heard faint sounds of Sam talking, and Angus growling in joy.

He twisted Sam's doorknob and made his way in the room to find Angus on his belly on Sam's bed with the kid waving one of his new toys back and forth as he snapped to try and catch it.

"Hey, what are you two doing?" Dean asked smirking at the scene.

"Playing. He was bored and dad's asleep so I didn't want the rascal waking him up," Sam grinned at Angus who seemed pretty pleased with being called a rascal.

"Thanks Sammy, for..." _everything_, "for keeping him entertained."

"No problem. Where'd you go?"

"Uh, just kinda ended up running there and back to see how far it was."

"Okay," Sam shrugged with a quick smile. He didn't mind, Dean went on runs all the time alone. He even went with him sometimes during spring or the summer and really enjoyed it but, when it was this cold and raining, it just wasn't Sam's thing.

Dean gnawed at his lip looking at his brother playing with the dog, "Uh, Sam... you know it gets dark earlier this time of year..."

"Really Dean, I thought that maybe it was just my imagination," Sam had no idea what he was getting at.

"Well, I just thought that, uh... that you should maybe always make sure to get home before dark, or, you know, stick with friends."

Sam couldn't help but look at Dean like he had two heads.

"Sam, please, _promise_ me..."

Wow, Dean didn't beg, he didn't even _ask_ for anything... "Oookay, uh, sure, no problem." He had no idea what was bothering his big brother, but if all it took was coming home before it got colder to keep him happy, he had no problem with that

"Great," Dean relaxed and smiled. "Could you keep Angus busy for another fifteen minutes for me while I go shower?"

"Sure, in fact I think it might be other way around," Sam joked making Dean laugh before he left for the bathroom to wash up for dinner.

_**SPN**_

As the evening went along, something became very apparent to Dean, something he'd never known before, what with Uncle Ron always being in perfect health, at least when he wasn't puking his hung-over guts up.

Turns out, adults, when sick, still took care of themselves. _Guess there's still more to learn about apple pie life. _ Unlike when you're a kid, even with just a little cold, _if your legal guardians weren't psychotic psychos,_ there was always someone around to tuck you in, feel your forehead and bring you crushed up pills and glasses of water until you felt better, and in the Winchester family's case, a little after you got better too.

However, this time John was sick, but he still got out his own pills, took his own temperature and decided himself when it was time to call it a day with flicking through the TV and head to bed. It was like some unspoken rule. Only Mary broke that around eight in the evening when she fussed around her man trying to help him get better. Dean didn't miss the worried frowns she tried to hide or the fact that John's hand trembled on the banister while he made his slow, rather shaky, way upstairs. It was apparently also a rule to never show weakness.

Later that night, he lay awake listening to Angus breathe in and out at the end of his bed, knowing he wasn't asleep either and the dog was picking up his restlessness. He just couldn't stop all the thoughts spinning through his brain; it was who the hell knows o'clock and his mind refused to shut the fuck up. Nothing he did seemed to work and the thought of a run was getting more and more appealing and if he happened across some-_thing_ out there, all the better. The shape of his knife seemed to burn through its hiding place under the mattress and he could nearly taste the freedom of the night air. Grinding his head into the pillow he was just about to give in and _go_ when he felt a slight puff of air across his sweaty forehead. Immediately tensing as his door came creaking open, he breathed out in relief as a mass of floppy hair poked its way through the small gap.

Doing his best to be quiet, Sam could just make out the large lump under the covers that was Dean and he froze in place just inside the doorway waiting for a sign. Sam never was one to speak first in times like these. He had a hard time telling if Dean was deep in slumber or just faking really well so he never liked to run the risk of waking his brother up. It was always Dean to speak first, or lift his head, or give some small signal he was indeed awake. This time wasn't any different as Dean pushed himself up to rest his tension tightened back against the headboard.

"Dean?" Sam almost whimpered, as he hesitantly moved forward.

"What's up?" Dean tried the 'tell big brother what's wrong so I can kick its ass' mode, but he wasn't sure he was pulling it off, he might have lost his touch these days, what with them sucking out loud and all.

"My dad keeps coughing. Can I sleep down here again?"

Dean knew how to translate that immediately and smiled internally when he knew he hadn't lost his touch, not one bit. Sam wasn't bothered it was god knows what in the morning and he couldn't sleep. He didn't care his dad's coughing was keeping him awake, hell he probably wanted to stay awake because of that. But he didn't want to do it alone, he was worried just as much as Dean was, and he didn't want to sit awake all night listening to his dad cough up his lungs with no one to turn to, to tell him his dad was going to be fine.

"Actually, I do believe it's my turn to sleep in your room. Besides..." he glanced around at his somewhat messy floor, "I'm sure a princess like you would prefer more comfortable accommodations."

"Jerk."

"Bitch," came the immediate response.

The shy grin he got from Sam was more than enough to let him know he had done good, but a part of him was also glad to get as far away from his knife as possible. For tonight anyway.

Dean sat up from the headboard, picked up his pillow and handed it to Sam who had inched further into his room and was now distracting himself by stroking Angus. Dean then shooed Angus from the end of his bed and picked up his covers and the little guys own bed all in one scoop. Without a word all three of them silently trekked up to Sam's room and got settled - Sam in his own bed, Dean on the floor, and Angus curled up in his doggie bed that lay on the end of Sam's toes just like it had Dean's.

"Thanks Dean," Sam whispered over the thick hacking from the room at the end of the hall.

Dean smiled, glad he could help just a little. "Night Sammy," he whispered back, even though they all knew none of them would be getting much sleep.

_**TBC...**_


	13. Helping Hand

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Helping Hand**

Blinking gritty eyes at the glowing numbers on the clock Dean sighed – it was still a good hour before Sam's alarm went off. Knowing he wasn't going back to sleep, but glad because at least he had actually gotten _some_ rest, he pushed off his blankets quietly, careful to leave Sam and Angus still deep in slumber. Seeing the dark bags parked under the kid's eyes he turned off the alarm clock before he went downstairs deciding Sam needed an extra ten minutes of lie in today.

Going down the stairs he was just in time to see Mary leaving out the door with her bag, walking towards a red car at the end of the drive. _Guess she's going to work with her friend then today. _She did most days, because John needed the Impala for his work but sometimes they traded and one of John's co-workers came to pick him up. Dean hoped the Impala still being in the drive was a sign John was well enough to go to work today.

Stomach growling, he moved from the front window to the kitchen to get himself an early breakfast. He found a note there, handwriting perfect with a kiss at the bottom.

"**If your dad****'****s not up when it's time for school, you boys get yourselves some breakfast and we can have something nice for dinner if you don't burn down the house. X."**

Dean smiled, that was code for 'sorry you have to get yourselves ready for school, I'll make it up to you with your favourite meal this evening.'

_Okay, time to start making myself useful for once_, he thought planning everyone's breakfast. He'd had years of practise, making himself meals out of almost nothing. Usually it was when his uncle was too hung-over to pick up stuff from the diner, or being too much of an asshole to remember he had more than his own mouth to feed. It didn't happen that often though, Ron's motto was always 'only dogs like bones, monsters like their food meaty.' It took Dean a few years to figure out he was the implied meat.

He looked at his watch, the one he hadn't taken off since he'd gotten it, the one John gave him on his last birthday, and saw he had some time before he would have to start getting breakfast ready. Bad morning telly it was then.

A little less than half an hour later Dean shut off the TV, there was only so much kids shows you could watch before you hung yourself.

He made his way to the kitchen, got out the pans, plates and ingredients he would need and soon enough, it was time to wake Sam.

The second he walked to Sam's room, Angus looked up and thumped his tail, though Dean was glad he didn't do his usual enthusiastic greeting and just stared at him without waking the kid.

"Good boy," Dean whispered before he picked the dog up and set him on the floor so he could hobble out the room and have a walk around while they got ready for school. He'd let him outside for his exercise later.

Next it was Sammy to get out of bed.

"Sammy, Sammy?" he whispered in a sing song voice, shaking the kids shoulder.

"Wha-?" came the whiney reply that although expected, Dean couldn't help but smile at.

"Time to get up, breakfasts waiting dude."

Dean made his way around the bed and opened the curtains letting the sun shine in, knowing if he didn't, Sam might fall back to sleep.

He left with a quick smile and shut the door giving Sam some privacy to get dressed before coming downstairs like he always did. Pausing on his way past John's door he raised his hand to knock and then hesitated as a cold trickle went down his spine. He couldn't hear anything. He'd fallen asleep listening to John hacking and now there was nothing – he let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding when a soft, congested snore came through the door. Lowering his hand, and feeling more than a little silly, he continued on – he had work to do.

When he did get downstairs, after following his nose, Sam's face lit up when he saw Dean had cooked waffles and had every syrup, jam, and sauce they had set on the table next to his plate. Dean always said he could cook.

Dean ate his own serving pretty quickly and as Sam finished off his he set Angus some dry food in a bowl by the kid.

Just at that moment Dean heard John stumble around and creak the floor above them, so he put some toast in and turned the coffee machine to warm up the left over coffee Mary hadn't poured earlier.

When he was done with his breakfast, Sam helped Dean set their dad's stuff on a tray, his morning meal consisted of black coffee, a glass of water and toast. John probably wouldn't want anything too thick or cloggy for a few days but he might want something besides butter on his toast so Dean picked the only jam John would touch and carried it upstairs after telling Sam to brush his teeth. He couldn't help but smirk when the kid moaned about not having to be reminded but... Dean was kinda enjoying taking Mary's place this morning.

Dean knocked on the folk's bedroom door then set the tray on the floor and hurried downstairs before John even had chance of making his way to answer the knock. He got ready for school himself and the boys were out the door in record time.

Classes weren't all that interesting, the only thing Dean took notice of and remembered in two and half hours worth of teaching was Mr. Saunders announcing their exam results would be sent home that day.

The boys met for break and tossed around a random ball left in the middle of the sports field. Dean was teaching Sam how to spin the football, trying to grant the kids wish when he'd said he wanted to be better at sports because he 'sucked.' Dean didn't think he was that bad but he would help wherever he could.

Dean was smiling and praising his kid brother -in silence of course so not to show the kid up in the middle of the school grounds- when another kid's ball hit him on the back and sent a burning sear through his spine.

"Sorry!" came the apologetic bellow before Dean was forgotten and they went back to their game.

Dean rubbed the sore spot forgetting he always tried to avoid touching that area and turned a slight pale green, loathing the feeling of the wrinkled scarred skin under his shirt. _Gross and_ _ow!_

After a few seconds of Sam watching him with concern, his back went from feeling cracked to tight as hell. _Maybe the ball bruised a muscle or something._

He pushed his arms back and wriggled a little trying to shake it off, he was unsuccessful but Sam didn't need to know that.

Luckily the bell went before Sam could say anything on the subject.

"So I'll see you at home?"

Sam frowned and stared intently at his brother. Dean may not have been aware of it but Sam had been studying him since he had arrived, what felt like a century ago, and even more intently since he'd been... well... just since.

"I just gotta go do something for a few hours."

"What?"

"Uh, I was thinking of going to the garage, see if I can help out."

"Okay, can I come?"

"Sure, guess we'll meet here then?"

Sam nodded, smiled, then went off to his class, as Dean did the same.

_**SPN**_

The rest of the day was long and hard, Dean found his concentration completely shut down after lunch and he had to battle the fluttering of his eyelids as they continuously fought to close. He could have sworn the teacher was looking right at him every time he roused himself from an unintended break.

When home time came around neither of the boys could even bear to think about what the next few hours before going home would hold but they pushed past it for John; they were going to work hard and make him proud.

They made it to the shop together without any major catastrophes like falling asleep mid crossing a road and getting run down.

"Hey boys, what are ya'll doing 'ere?" Cal asked wiping his hands on a rag that had seen better days.

Dean didn't waste time, no point in chit chatting when he could be working. Well that and he was afraid if he didn't put his mind to use quickly then his whole body would stop - nothing like Mr. Kath droning on about evolution to put one in his grave a few years early.

"Um, John's sick," _well duh, the guy knows that!_ "And we were just wondering if there's anything we can do? Like wash cars or fill them up with gas or something?"

"Maybe I can do one better. We've got a few cars in need of some new brake lights and a couple needing their tires pumped up, will that do ya?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks."

_Thank god! _Dean sagged, glad Cal was one of those guys that treat him like an adult and not a dumb brat that couldn't even handle a bucket of soapy water.

"You remember how to work the stuff?"

"Yeah, course," Dean shrugged nonchalantly. John had been showing him how to fix cars for the last two years, and Dean knew his way around the Impala like the back of his hand. The day he walked back into this place after he apologized for almost beating Fisher to the ground was the first day of many he spent here. He'd not been there lately.

"What can I do?" Sam asked when Dean made his way to the first car Cal told him needed some TLC.

"You, Sam my man, can go find me some papers and keys from your dad's office, Mrs. Braverman and Mr. Thom should be here in a few."

"Got it," Sam took off with a set of keys to his dads office, unlocked it then went in search for the appropriate billing papers and car keys. When he took a look at his dad's desk, he could see why he had got lumbered with search party duty. It was a mess. He almost couldn't tell the difference between the trash and the important as hell filing papers. His dad had really been slacking lately... and he thought he knew why, but things would be better now. Dean was getting back to his old self and, other than his dad getting sick, things were going back to normal finally. Not even realizing he was doing it, he happily hummed what suspiciously sounded like a Metallica tune while he began organizing the chaos of papers.

_**SPN**_

The sun went down faster than Dean could comprehend. Sam had finished tidying up most of his dad's office and had been waiting around doing odd bits of homework for a good hour but Dean had to almost be forcibly removed from under the hood of the last car of the day.

"Come on, come _on_, unless you plan to live here for the night, I gotta lock up which means you gotta go home." Cal -the one clearly in charge today- pulled Dean from the car and tugged the tools free from his hands. "Night guys. Tell your dad to get his ass back here soon and pull his weight already." That was guy speak for I hope he feels better.

Cal waited around until Mary picked them up. Both boys were thankful the man had called her earlier because both of them were dead on their feet right now, though neither admitted it as they climbed in the back of the Impala and Mary asked how their day was.

Sam was half asleep by the time the car stopped outside their house and Dean wasn't far behind.

Angus danced around their feet as they went in the house and dumped their bags. Reaching down to give the ecstatic dog a pat, he felt bad that he just felt too wiped to take him for his usual walk. He could hear Mary talking and gently shooing them into the kitchen to eat, but he didn't see John. _She would tell us if he'd gotten worse, right? _Part of him was scared to know.

Mary looked closely at the two unusually quiet boys in front of her. Both looked like they hadn't slept in days and could very likely topple into their mashed potatoes, but while Sam was okay, Dean... Dean still looked lost. Most of the self-help books she'd read on _helping your troubled teen_ were absolute crap, but one thing that they were right about was that changes wouldn't come overnight. But that hadn't stopped her hoping for a miracle. She didn't feel an ounce of guilt for keeping Dean's school mail a secret for tonight - if his results were good the boy would be too wired and happy to get the sleep he was in dire need of right now, and if it was bad news... well that just about spoke for itself didn't it?

"Mom? How's Dad doing?" Finished concentrating on eating, Sam pushed his plate back.

Mary pulled herself out of her thoughts to look at her son's concerned face. "Oh, he's going to be just fine sweetie." She smiled just a bit too brightly, "and he wants you both to know that as soon as he's up and about, we're buying you both a treat for today. You boys did a really sweet thing and we're both lucky to have you two." She chuckled as they grumbled and blushed.

"Now go on - bed."

"Night mom," Sam yawned before dragging his backside to his room.

"Night," Dean smiled at her before doing the same. He left his bedroom door open so Angus could wander in and out. As tired as he was he didn't think a poltergeist could wake him up, never mind Angus hobbling around. Tired was good, it kept his mind from going places he didn't want to go. Dean was snoring before he hit the pillow and Sam's swift descent was uncanny as he too slept like a baby for the first time in a long while.

_**TBC...**_


	14. Pain takes my hearts place

_**Happy Friday people! I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to all of you, I have been in a really good place these past few weeks and most of that is down to you guys so thank you for always being here and being so sweet! It means so much to me! (((Cookiehug!))**_**)**

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Pain takes my hearts place**

About six in the morning or so Dean guessed, he woke to someone coughing not far from his bedroom door, three guesses who that was. Though Mary said John was doing okay, it didn't sound like it.

When the front door squeaked open, and he faintly heard the familiar rumble of the Impala as it started up, Dean mentally slapped himself for being so over-dramatic. John was going to work, he was fine if he felt up to a day of repairing cars. God knows he and Sam spent just half the evening there last night and it was more exhausting than the ten mile runs his uncle forced him to do when he was ten years old - one mile for one year of life was his motto. Dean had hoped one day to have the guts to ask his uncle why he never saw him running thirty odd or so miles once a week. Didn't matter anymore, but it still bugged Dean when he thought about it too long.

Knowing he wasn't going to go back to sleep now -or if he did he would probably start dreaming about the asshole he'd just gotten out of his head- he got out of bed and made his way to the living room. He smiled when Angus wasn't far behind and paused to let him out to run in the yard for a bit.

Shivering a little as he let the happy animal back in, he turned on the TV and curled up on the couch with the throw John had been using the last few days. Tucking it around his legs he smiled as Angus made himself comfortable by his feet.

He flicked through some mind numbingly painful kid's shows before landing on something half decent that he and the furry guy could both tolerate.

Time flew by in about a second and before he knew it, the show had ended and he was sitting at his desk at the back of the class with his head propped up on his hand with his lids drooping; tomorrow he was going to tape his eyes open because this was just getting ridiculous. Classes were boring when exams were over, all anyone talked about was the stupid tests and how well they'd done. Dean swore if one more person, student or even teacher asked him how he'd scored, he'd clock them one, and make it hurt.

Science class was even more dreary, if that was possible, because the teacher was nowhere in sight and it didn't look like a replacement was coming any time soon. Everyone was sitting around chatting to their friends about crap which meant Dean was sitting in silence, thinking too loud for his own good. His interest only perked up at an announcement that until further notice all students had to stay on school property at all times and were to avoid walking home alone. Listening to the pointless buzz of his fellow students, he wasn't surprised when none of them paid any attention.

"Oh my god I totally thought I'd messed up my math but I got a freakin' A! My dad said he was gonna buy me a car 'cause I've like totally aced everything."

_Oh my good lord give my strength before I deck this loser!_

"Hey!" a tightly screwed up ball of paper hit Dean on the side of the head bringing him out of his 'how do you kill a jock slowly?' thoughts. He glared at the no-neck asshole who launched the paper, tightening his fists under the table. _Now is not the time to get_ _suspended_ _Dean_, he repeated silently.

"How'd you score?" the proverbial dick sniggered and grinned alongside his smirking friends._ Girlfriends more like._

"Good," Dean lied, not wanting to sound stupid by telling them he forgot to check for his marks because he was too busy last night –_trying to be a good son_- he reminded himself.

"What did your parents buy you?" This was obviously a very lame display of how much money the jerk had compared to others, but Dean refused to take the bait.

"Having a rich daddy ain't the most important thing in the world sweetheart." Dean grinned casually snatching another tossed ball of paper out of the air and then into the trash bin yards from his desk, impressively without even looking where he was aiming.

Dean couldn't help chuckling to himself when the jock waggled his fist in warning, looking to his girlfriends they too squared their shoulders and pouted at him, which Dean guessed was meant to be challenges to a fist fight when school was out.

Dean simply smiled and kept his eyes dark and growled. "I'd send you running home to mommy and daddy in seconds and the car money they saved will have to go to your plastic surgery fund 'cause there's no way in hell you'd go home looking pretty when I'm done with you."

The teacher then chose that moment to walk in and apologize for being late. The pack of jocks lost their chance to retaliate with something like 'we're totally OMG gonna kick your ass at three.'

The teacher started the lesson quickly and everyone took their seats, but Dean still couldn't help but chuckle at the Hardy boys that turned around and scowled at him every so often.

_Maybe this day ain't gonna be so boring after all._

He hoped this morning was as exciting for everyone else, too bad he was right.

_**SPN**_

John's morning started off even more miserable. When his work buddies walked into the office to find him printing off some insurance information for a customer, he didn't get the most flattering of greetings.

"Whoa, John you look like shit on toast, only without the toast."

"Good morning to you too," he snapped back with little conviction, he didn't care enough to put force behind his usual sarcastic phrases today.

"Shouldn't you be in bed? There's no way you're working today." The pale face highlighted with a fever blush and distinct wheezing noises made the mechanic wonder how the man could even be standing.

"Huh, that's funny Jack, I thought I was the boss and told people what to do around here? Oh wait, I am."

He didn't like to admit it, but they were right, he would kill for a bed and some of Mary's soup right now. Picking up a few sheets of paper and stapling them together took more energy than he had to spare. But he didn't have time to be sick, he had a family to look after. He'd booked some football tickets for Saturday for himself, Steve and his boys and Mary said they needed to go to the mall for some new stuff. Money didn't grow on trees.

A tap on the desk knocked him from his thoughts. It was Cal, his worried expression inches from John's face.

"You sure you're alright man, seriously, you don't look good."

"Thank you but I'm fine. Now go on, I don't pay you to be my nurse, I pay you to fix those things out there that some people like to call cars."

With that, the few guys hovering around left to go work.

Now alone, John took a deep breath to try and shake off the shivers running through his arms. It didn't work so he chose to groan in misery.

_Suck it up Marine!_

He decided to leave the paper work alone for the time being and get down to some real work. Keeping his shaking hands busy would keep his mind off the pit in his stomach hopefully long enough until it went away.

His guys yet again tried to get him to sit down but their efforts weren't well received. Reluctantly dropping their protests as they moved back to their jobs, silent glances communicated what they were all thinking – _the boss sure got cranky when he was sick_.

John was under a rather crappy Ford Taurus when his fingertips started to tingle. He dropped the tools and stretched out his hands deciding they were probably just aching from him not using them in a few days. Picking a wrench up, he concentrated on removing a stubborn bolt when the world began to spin.

Was the air getting thinner under there or was the car sinking closer to his face?

_Deep breaths John, deep breaths._

Big mistake!

He rolled to the side as much as he could in the tight space and didn't bother covering his mouth as he coughed long and hard before spitting out the gunk from his throat.

_Maybe it's time to come out now, _he said to himself as he heard through his cotton wool ears Cal and the others asking if he was okay.

He felt hands pulling him forward until he reached light and took some breaths of the clean fresh air, willing his hammering chest to slow down.

_What's wrong with you?_ He asked his heart that wouldn't stop thumping - damn it was louder than Dean pounding on his punching bag after a hard day.

He sat up from the floor and wiped a hand down his clammy face. His palm came away wet and cold. He was sweating bullets, that was strange because he was freezing his ass off.

He could just make out the care-lined face of his lead mechanic kneeling beside him. "John, dude you don't look good. Come on I'll take you the doctors, maybe they can give you something."

"N-no, m'fine, just the fumes. Shut up and get back to work." No one moved to do as he said. "Now!" he barked, another mistake as it set off his hacking again, when he was done he felt like his head would soon explode from the pressure.

As the seconds went on his vision started to cave in, things were blurry and dark and somewhere in the distance someone was wheezing. It was painful to hear, never mind feel. John worried for the person who's breathing was turning into fast strangled pants.

_Oh, wait, that's me._

Next he felt two sets of hands pull him up from the floor and drag him to a comfortable chair.

_Don't we usually save these for customers only?_

If he had the strength, he would have clocked the men that put him there because his stomach was now flipping and making it rather challenging to keep his breakfast down. His head sunk to his chest and his eye lids sagged.

"John? John? Stay with me, come on man, hey stay awake!"

_Oh would you shut up__,__ my head hurts! Why the hell are you yelling?_

"John? Johnny? Okay you gotta breathe buddy, come on!"

_Uh, can you call Mare to come pick me up? I don't feel so good._

"I know man, just stop talking and concentrate on breathing."

_Oh, I said that out loud?_

"John shut your yap and breathe!"

_Trying here! Does it look like I'm enjoying this? _

"Easy man, we're gonna get you help, take you the hospital and we'll call Mary and everything will be okay, don't you worry about a thing."

_Easy for you to say! You don't have a freakin' elephant on your chest! I'm freakin' out here! _

As his panic rose, the pain in his chest started to intensify and his muscles erupted in tiny shakes, his teeth chattering together as his skin turned white hot. The palm tapping his cheek hurt like a bitch, hell, the light hands on his shoulders hurt like a bitch. He couldn't even help himself from whimpering when the shooting agony ran through every fibber in his body.

"Call a damn ambulance! John? _John!_"

_**SPN**_

"Hey Sammy, do you know if there was any mail yesterday?"

"No idea, why?"

"No reason, just... my teacher said the results from our exams were gonna be sent home but I forgot all about it till I was in class and everyone was... well, swapping car models."

"Huh?" Sam asked not getting it.

"All the rich bitches are apparently getting cars for doing so well, but whatever."

"Oh, you're not like... do you want a car?" Sam asked getting the wrong impression. They weren't a poor family by any means but they weren't rich either so maybe Dean was starting to realise that and wanted more in life, like a new flashy car and brand new cell phone and other swanky gadgets they didn't have.

"Nah, like I told Princess Jock, more to life than having a rich daddy."

Sam smiled, he thought so too. Rich mother and father who were assholes and let the nanny raise their kids, or not so rich but pretty awesome parents who would bend over backwards for anything you wanted just because they loved you.

"Do you know why we can't leave the school grounds?" Looking around Sam saw way more students hanging around the field than normal.

"Who knows Sam, probably some perv has been seen skulking in the bushes. Nothing for you to worry about."

Sam looked up at his brother uncertainly.

"Seriously Sam, I wouldn't let anything ever hurt you." Dean's voice was a deadly calm Sam had never heard before and it comforted and kind of scared him.

"So, are we going to the shop tonight like yesterday?" Sam changed the suddenly serious subject.

"You want to?"

"Yeah, plus dad might get us ice cream before we go home."

Dean smiled, Sam was such a kid, "Doesn't your mom frown upon ice cream before dinner?"

"Well, yeah, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her," Sam grinned.

"I am totally a bad influence on you," that was usually Dean's motto.

"Or maybe I'm just getting wiser in my old age."

"Old age, what are you now, eight?" Dean joked ruffling Sam's hair.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Their bickering didn't last long before the bell went again and it was time to drag themselves back into class.

Sam sat at his desk tapping his pen, usually he liked history but today he couldn't wait to get home. Unfortunately that time came sooner than he expected.

A school secretary interrupted the class, whispered with his teacher and then he was called.

"Sam, if you could please grab your bag and coat? Your brother's waiting for you outside."

Sam felt a cold shiver through his whole body as he stood and collected his things. What was wrong with Dean? He was fine when he left for his class just a couple of minutes ago, what had happened and why was he waiting in the hall?

A few kids in his class tutted as he left with his things, wishing they got to leave early too and how lucky was Sam right now. Only Sam didn't think so, going home early was never a good thing, _never_, not for anyone.

The Secretary stood just outside waiting with Dean. He liked her, she always reminded him of his kindergarten teacher from when he was little, but he didn't like the look of sympathy she was giving him now.

"Hey, you ready?" Dean also stood with his bag and jacket, looking just as worried as Sam.

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Sam," the secretary leaned down closer and put her hand on his shoulder. Sam blinked, _this was so very not good_. "Your father has taken ill. Your Uncle Steve Ward is going to come and pick you up."

Sam was so shocked he didn't make a fuss when Dean took his bag and carried it for him as they left for the office. Things must be bad if Dean was carrying his things for him, he only did that when Sam was sick or something.

"What... why Steve?" Sam managed to squeak, trying to process what was happening.

"Your mom's busy," Dean replied. He'd replaced the secretary's hand with his own as he gently guided his upset sibling. He'd never admit it but he kind of needed the contact himself to stop from shaking.

"With what?"

"Well she can't pick us up and take us, so Steve is."

"Take us where?"

"Sam it's fine, everything is sorted out, we just have to go home and drop our stuff off, though you might wanna bring your homework 'cause it might be a long wait but your mom said it would be fine so just don't worry okay, just follow my lead and everything will be fine." Dean was babbling, avoiding the subject and poorly trying to seem like he wasn't.

Sam stopped in the middle of the hall. "Dean, what's wrong?" He was not going to move until someone told him what was happening.

Dean stopped in front of him, he gave Sam a long sympathetic sigh before placing a hand on his other shoulder as well.

"Your dad..."

"What's wrong with my dad?" _he was getting better, he'd gone to work, he was better._

"Sammy... dad might have had a heart attack."

_**TBC...**_


	15. Refuge from the Wreckage

**Sooo sorry guys, I said once a week, its been ten days (I think), promise there's a good reason! First, I lost my muse... second, I'm in hospital lol (don't you just love the irony that comes with this chapter). I would say pray I get to go home tomorrow but I'm not getting my hopes up, every time the docs say a date of release they like to add another week when it comes. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. **

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **_

**Refuge from the Wreckage**

Ignoring Steve's orders to wait the boys were slamming the doors before he could even finish parking and raced to the ER. Pausing to get oriented Sam saw his mother's bright gold hair and nudged his brother in the right direction, but his feet didn't want to move. Now that he was here he was terrified about what he would find. One concerned glance from Dean, and he forced himself slowly forward, glad that he wasn't alone.

Sam was just about to call out to his Mom when all the anxious faces in the room turned at the entrance of a white coated doctor.

"Mrs. Winchester?"

"That's me," she walked over to the doctor holding a clipboard which she noticed had her husband's name but unfortunately that was about all she understood amongst all the numbers. "Is John okay? They said it looked like a heart attack, I-I don't understand, how can he have had a heart attack? He's young, he's active and he's well and..." her words trailed off as the tears built up.

"Mrs Winchester, I can understand your worry, but I can confirm that it's not a heart attack, your husband's arteries are in good shape."

"So... how is he? What was it? Will he be okay?"

"He's stable, his SAT's are low so we've got him on oxygen to raise his O2 levels, antibiotics for the fever and something for the pain. Looking at the x-rays it does look like there's a good chance your husband has pleurisy as well as a chest infection. Symptoms can mimic a heart attack but it's actually an inflammation of the lining around the lungs. If untreated it can be very serious but hopefully we've caught it in time. I can't say for certain as of this moment but we'll know more once further test results come in and I can confirm the diagnosis."

Mary was shaking when his explanation was over, and she had a feeling that it was the sugar coated version at that. Doctors only said 'we'll know more when the test results come in' when they're worried right? It might not be a heart attack but pleurisy didn't sound any better right now.

"How did... how did this happen? He hasn't been sick in years, I can't remember the last time he even caught a cold."

"Most cases are caused by just a common virus, people can just be unlucky sometimes. But other factors such as stress can have a big impact on the immune system. Has your husband been under any unusual pressure lately?"

"Um... we've had some family... issues, but it's been so much better lately, it's been really good, I don't know how this could have happened now."

"Mrs Winchester, it really could just be an unlucky fluke, but my best considered opinion would be that his immune system may have suppressed during the time you were having issues and when things got better... his mind finally caught up with his body and vice versa."

Dean could feel his blood sinking into his boots and his heart pounding in his ears drowning out the rest of what the doctor was saying. He wanted to pretend more than anything he hadn't just heard what he did... and he wanted even more for Sam not to have heard it, because now the kid actually had hard core proof from a professional that Dean had royally fucked up his little brothers father! He really was poison...

"When can I see him?" Mary asked, still yet to see the two lost boys behind her.

"We're just admitting him right now and finding a place on the ward upstairs, you can sit with him until he's moved."

"Thank you," Mary breathed, she wasn't going to cry, she just had a hole inside that was stopping her from even feeling much of anything. When she turned around to pick up her coat from the chair, she finally saw the distinctive mop of floppy bangs Sam was hiding his lost eyes behind and the short spikes that belonged to Dean who was wearing an expression she had never seen on him before- utter devastation. "Hey boys, come on, let's go see your dad, he's going to be just fine." She smiled encouragingly putting her arms around their shoulders. Sam melted in to lean on her one side while Dean stood stiff on the other.

_**SPN**_

Hours later, Dean and Sam were sitting by John's bedside, shoulder touching shoulder. Mary was outside talking to his doctor again and Steve had gone to their home to collect some things because it was looking more and more likely John would be staying the next few nights at the very least.

He had opened his eyes a few times but hadn't been awake at all. It was sort of close to terrifying to see the usual big mouthed, bad ass Marine so still, so sick, so helpless. He was pale, greyer than the sheets he was lying on, and the dark rims under his eyes made him look like he'd been in a fight with Rocky and lost.

Sam was holding his hand and Dean had his right palm resting on John's shoulder, neither of them had said anything since arriving at the hospital, but neither of them had broken the contact they had with each other as well as their dad.

When Dean told Sam he might have had a heart attack, he expecting the kids knees to give out in the middle of the school hall and sob into his hands for all his worth. But he hadn't done anything of the sort, his eyes went wide, clenched his jaw and he hadn't said a word since. Dean suspected he was in shock. He'd heard of people finding out their loved ones had cancer or something and instead of crying, they burst out laughing. Sam didn't laugh, but his stillness was just as frightening.

Sam flinched when the blood pressure machine started up again, air pumping into the strap around John's other arm as it did every fifteen minutes Dean had figured out - he'd counted the seconds between the pumps more than once. When the strap went down again, the screen on the machine started bleeping, _again_. Dean looked at the numbers and saw it was roughly the same as last time - give or take. It was too high, even Dean knew that and he didn't know anything about the human body. But the way the nurse looked when she jotted down the numbers told him all he needed to know.

Just like clockwork, the nurse came in to scribble the reading down like she had not so long ago. Dean barely acknowledged her fleeting smile but paid close attention as she worked and saw that her face got tight and, if possible, was getting tighter. Definitely not a good sign.

"You boys should get something to eat, the cafeteria foods not that bad," she promised concerned for the two rather dazed looking boys. Dean shook his head thanks but no thanks for the both of them.

Mary walked in just as the nurse left and Sam let himself relax the tiny bit he could manage.

"Boys, come on let's go find something to eat."

"Don't want to," Sam mumbled speaking for the first time in hours, squeezing his dads hand just a little tighter.

"Sammy," Mary pleaded.

"We can't leave dad alone," was his simple answer. What if he woke up? Would he be scared? Doubtful, but Sam didn't want his dad to open his eyes and find himself alone.

"You go, I'll stay, we can take shifts," Dean persuaded. He didn't want to leave John either, but Sam wasn't staying on his own, no way, so if he went with Mary, John still had someone by his side and so did Sam.

Reluctantly, Sam took his hands from his dads, handed it over to Dean then left with his mom after one last glance at the bed.

Dean felt lonely now the contact of shoulder to shoulder was gone; every emotion he'd been staving off rushed to the surface. Guilt, shame and worry were all there, but looming over them all like a crushing tide was fear – fear that he'd lose someone else he'd come to care about. Sitting there holding the too warm, too quiet hand with nothing else to distract him, he fought the curls of terror making it hard to breathe as his heart started to race and when he heard the ever-present, annoying beeps also going faster, confusedly wondered how it knew that he was panicking. Tearing his thoughts away he could see lines of pain behind the oxygen mask on John's face as harsh, choking, gargles ripped through his throat and alarms started bleeping like crazy. Nurses and a doctor rushed in before he could even blink to be brusquely pushed out of the way to stand forgotten, squeezed tight against the wall.

"What- what's going on? What's wrong with my dad?" he pleaded, hoping to god Mary and Sam would walk back into the room to save him from having to watch John choke alone, and equally desperately hoping that they didn't so they wouldn't have to see this.

Urgent voices spoke over and around him but none to him; someone was calling for suction, Dean would have laughed at the word if the situation was reversed and he was the one stuck in bed. Suction? Didn't they only use that term on lame hospital TV shows? It sounded downright ridiculous.

After a few minutes the two nurses and doctor relaxed as the alarms stopped bleeping and with a short, terse discussion the nurses left.

Loosening limbs that seemed stuck in place, Dean faced the doctor still leaning over his father, "What happened?" He could feel his lips moving on auto-pilot, he wasn't even sure how he was still standing but he didn't really care.

Looking up from his work the doctor looked momentarily shocked that there was a kid standing there. "Your dad's throat was blocked with some fluid he'd coughed up from his lungs causing his air supply to be cut off for a few seconds. Don't worry, there won't be any lasting side damage, we just have to keep a closer eye on that."

"Why weren't you already?" Dean asked, pissed all these stupid hospital staff weren't doing their job right, they'd come in enough times, ran enough tests and still they didn't have a clue what was happening. Some use they were.

Just as if it was written in the bedside manner hand book, the doctor spouted off another lame TV show phrase, "We're doing everything we can for your father."

"Well... do more," Dean barked before moving back to take his seat by the bed and clasp John's hand again.

The doctor took that as his cue to leave.

"Don't do that again," Dean warned the still unconscious man before him. "If you wanna cough, next time do the smart thing and wake up first."

But John was so still, he didn't look like he would be waking up at all. Panicking, Dean pressed two of his fingers to John's pulse at his wrist and breathed a sigh of relief when the fast but steady beat thumped under the pads of his fingers. He placed his other hand on the man's chest just for good measure.

"Hey, I uh... I know it might not be worth much, come from me and all, but I really hope you get better. I don't know what to do to... Sammy's... he's not so good, but I guess you've already figured that out, you're his dad." Dean let out a forced chuckle that almost hurt. "Couldn't you have at least gotten attacked by a ghost or something? I mean... I could do something then, like kill it for you, the one and only thing I'm any good at... and good _for_."

He moved to grab his Dad's hand tightly to ground himself to keep away the ache, the _need_ he felt drowning him deep inside. It wouldn't last, the release just temporary, but right at that moment he doubted he'd be able to stop himself. Just his luck, the sharpest thing in the room was a pillow.

"I heard the doctors talking when me and Sammy first got here... they keep saying stuff about stress, and... you've been practically on the edge ever since I came back home, and before, I can tell. This is 'cause of me isn't it? This is all my fault, you're sick 'cause of me. 'Cause I jacked your family up, just like I did my own."

A harsh laugh erupted beneath eyes brimming in tears and they spilled over before he could even think about towing them back in.

"You can't die, you hear me? You gotta get better, for Sammy, and for Mary, and hell- for _me_. I can't lose two dads, I just can't. You promised me you'd always be there when I needed you, so you gotta come back. I'll always look after Sam, and we've got Ma... Mom, but we need you too, so... don't go anywhere 'kay..."

The hand in his twitched, and for a second Dean could have sworn it was squeezing back. He looked to John's face, something was different, his eyes were open, and more importantly, he was awake.

"Not going anywhere son... I promise," came the rough jagged reply that just about sent Dean bawling. "Hey," John soothed in sympathy, "Dean Winchester, you are not crying for little old me," he joked -but only a little- bringing his hand up to the one on his chest. It took some effort but he didn't care.

"You scared the shit outta me," Dean whined in defence, not bothering to wipe his eyes as his hands were otherwise occupied. John gave him stern look but he shook it off, "What? You collapse and suffocate and I still don't have grounds to be able to curse?"

"Nope, not while I'm your dad."

"One curse for one smack around my face?"

Despite being utterly exhausted already after only being awake for a few minutes, John pushed himself up and looked Dean right in the eye, "You know better," and he wasn't talking about the cursing.

"Right, sorry." He wasn't though, if it got John out of damn bed and back to being a dad, he'd make all the ludicrous abuse jokes he liked. "You get your lazy ass outta bed then I'll stop cursing, deal?" '_and stop making lame jokes that upset you'_ was the unspoken promise the both of them heard.

John couldn't argue with that, "Deal."

Dean smiled, it was a sad smile, but a smile none the less.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I never got to thank you for my toast...and coffee yesterday."

Deans sad smile gone, replaced with a real one.

"You're welcome." After a few minutes of silence, Dean saw Johns eyes were closed again. "Night dad."

_**TBC...**_

**Hhm, I think I broke my IV...**


	16. Fall Away

_**First, thank you guys so much for the well wishes! They mean so much x I feel absolutely fine now! Mwah x **_

_**Second, hope ya'll had an awesome Halloween. **_

_**Third, sorry... but do you guys mind if this chapter is the last one for a couple of weeks while I get my writer bearings back? I'm pretty sure the hospital killed the infection then kidnapped my muse and tossed her under a bus. I would complain but... they were really nice to me and let me come home much sooner than they usually do! Swings and roundabouts right?**_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Fall Away**

Although he tried every damn trick he knew to stay awake until Sam and Mary came back 'from the cafeteria' as Dean had told him, it wasn't long before John was back to his restless sleep, his hand still gripped to his eldest for which he was glad and didn't intend on letting go of just yet.

When the two finally did come back with Steve not far in tow, Dean's head snapped up and his mouth went on a marathon about all that had happened, John choking, what the doctors said about it shouldn't have any lasting damage. John waking up and talking to him, how he seemed okay, not great but fucking fantastic compared to what he was an hour ago. Of course he got told off for cursing again but overall everyone was happy with the news.

Nurses and doctors came and went; Steve had to leave for work but made sure to have a word with Sam and pulled Dean aside to whisper words of reassurance before hugging Mary and telling her he'd check in the next day. The steady beep, hum, buzz of machinery was only interrupted by quiet voices, harsh breathing and even harsher coughing. Time and light shifted as day turned into night.

Watching his dad sleep Sam squirmed trying to get himself comfortable. Cursing his recent growth spurt, he felt that if he sat there much longer the chair and his butt would become one, yet he settled down firmly and refused to budge when the hospital night staff said they had to leave. He could tell by the shocked look on his brother's face that he was yelling louder than Dean had ever heard him. Pulling out every trick he'd ever learned at school and at home he fought, arguing how he needed to stay until his dad woke up and he could see he was okay, what if he choked again and he wasn't able to get help? Logic and strategy, soon lost ground as too bright eyes glittered with unshed tears. He wanted to tell him he got an A on his last math test, that he wanted to try out for the school play. Sam started ranting about all kinds of things that didn't really matter at all but he was searching for any excuse to stay. He was holding on for dear life and Mary didn't have it in her to yell at him.

"Hey, hey, Sammy, Sammy shhh, it's okay, you trust me right?" Pulling himself out of his misery he let Dean's soft words filter in.

Sam nodded without a hitch despite his tears as he clung to the chair in protest.

Dean cupped the back of Sam's head and crouched to his level. "Trust me in saying he's gonna be fine. Come on kid, we gotta go home now, but you can come back tomorrow, I promise you." _Even if I'm not here, you can always be._

The cold, angry look that briefly flashed across Sam's young face was not what Dean expected and he knew... he _knew_, that Sam blamed him too. Dropping his hand as if it stung, he didn't think that the dark agony churning through his gut could get any worse, but he guessed he was wrong about that too.

Sam nodded, face falling in resignation, deeply unhappy and a bit ticked about being treated like a stupid kid – again. He knew he shouldn't be mad at Dean, it wasn't his fault, but no one was telling him anything! His senses overwhelmed he missed picking up on how Dean stood apart, figure slumped, as they all left, solemn eyed and exhausted.

_**SPN**_

People always said that there was nothing to fear of the dark, but Dean knew better. The dark hid all, masking ugliness and beauty with the caress of black; all things equal except for their intent. What he'd learned, and prayed that Sam never knew, was that the worst dark was on the inside.

Dean sat, back protesting the cold tile as his eyes fought to focus the shades of grey that was the tub, sink and toilet in the unlit room. Giving up, he instead concentrated on trying to be silent, but unable to keep it that way. He tried to breathe calmly, tried not to panic, that's what all those TV shows said not to do right? Panic. Well, he tried, but it wasn't going well, because someone really needed to tell those lame shows - why don't _they_ try breathing calmly and not freaking out when they felt like someone was pouring lava down their spine. Yeah, not as easy as it sounds is it?

He tried to distract himself with thoughts on his hunt. It was a shifter he was sure... well, really pretty sure. Now five teens were missing, and he knew what it was now, what to look for and how to kill it. Maybe he should just let the thing take him... he could go down fighting make his parents proud, he snorted, would even make that ass Ron proud and he could tell him that himself when they met in Hell. Then, as an added bonus maybe the Winchester's could put themselves back together without him.

_Come on Dean you can__'t just disappear or wind up in the__ hospital too, they have enough to worry about already you selfish piece of crap. _

Tough love... or rather tough cruelty, wasn't working either, it just about made him worse, if that was even possible, panic equals pain, and pain equals panic. So pain plus panic plus a self loathing kick in the head equals... well Dean wasn't sure what that all added up to, but he really didn't want to find out.

Tears stung his eyes and his throat wrung dry, he couldn't cough it away, Sam might hear, and he couldn't scream, the whole town would hear. He gripped his knees tight. His hands were cold and his body was numb, his head was pounding and his vision was blurred. Maybe he was crying, he wasn't sure, he shouldn't be crying, he had no right.

This was all his fault, he put his dad in the hospital!

_No, his dad died... John couldn't be his dad.._. _he_ _can't be... guys who were his dad, he just got killed._

That just made it so much worse, he put fucking John Winchester in the hospital and he might die! Sam's dad, Mary's husband... Sam knew, Mary probably did too...

'_Happy now you pitiful you lying trying waste of space? Now you've got what you've always wanted – __s__omeone else in this world as miserable as you.' _

For the past two years, all he did was constantly hunt for any tiny little reason to bail, any hint the Winchesters didn't want him, any reason to push them away.

It was always someone else's fault, it was always anyone to blame but him. Every time he walked out of the front door with no intentions of coming back, it was always because of one person in particular. The last time he left, why did he leave? Because John had pissed him off, talked about his scars, something John didn't have the right to talk about because he wasn't there, he didn't know what it felt like to have someone drag a cigar or knife down his back, again and again. The time before that, why did he leave? Because John had pissed him off, kept calling him 'son', kept talking like he was an idiot, and like he was just waiting for him to hurt his family and send him off packing.

Maybe somewhere deep inside he wanted justice, revenge for that, for John always being the reason of why he felt like an outsider, why he couldn't trust his family one hundred percent, why he had to leave all the time. With John out the way, he wouldn't have that barrier anymore, with just him, Sam and Mary, he wouldn't have to be afraid that those visions, of John beating him to humiliation, would come true. Without John, there would be no man to have power over him, to make him trust him with all his heart, and then betray him.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it," he chanted like he had some sort of conscious power over the pain in his soul. But there was only one thing that worked when this happened. The only way to ride over one kind of pain... was to cause another. Fingers trembling, he bit his lip as he tugged the pocket knife from his sweats. Feeling the awkward, blocky shape of the little knife, he paused. It wasn't the soothing weight and familiar silken smoothness of his favourite weapon and part of him screamed _wrongwrongwrong_ as he snicked the blade open, but he needed the pain to go away... it had to go away... if only for a little while... Carefully, almost reluctantly, he rolled his left sleeve up, his whole body shaking as he drew the blade over his skin.

_Fuck. _

Even in the dark he could see the rapidly flowing trickle down his arm. Hastily he grabbed it to hold back the droplets that would be bright cherry stop signs of his failure in the bright light of day.

Cautiously he took his hand away, and instead of applying pressure to stop the blood, like he'd just done, he squeezed and pulled the skin to open up the cut all the more. He dismissed what he'd thought before - this was right, was what he deserved and made everything else recede to a distant thunder.

He'd never hit a vein before. That was new, and it hurt... but not as much as he wanted it to. It just bled far more than it needed. Flipping the knife closed, he shoved it back in his pocket before yanking down his sleeve and squeezing his arm tight; thank god his clothes consisted of mostly black.

His thoughts wandered as he waited for the sticky dampness to stop spreading. He could hear nothing on the other side of the closed door and, though it was exactly what he hoped for, it also exactly wasn't. For some reason he wanted to be caught, he wanted them to walk in through that door and help him... maybe save him. But they didn't, rightfully so and he didn't blame them. They had more to worry about than how long he'd been in the bathroom. They had their real family to worry about without the addition of a tag along.

And there he went again... blaming them for wanting him gone... again. Why he couldn't just be a man and leave because he didn't want to stay. But that was it, he didn't want to leave... he didn't want any of them to go away like his mom and dad did. But... nothing lasts forever does it? Just like his bleeding cut, that had now stopped, and looked no worse than a bad paper cut on his arm, he could feel the pain starting up again...

Sudden, loud scratching at the door had him gasping in shock and mentally kicking himself that he allowed something... or one... to sneak up on him. He sighed when he realized it was Angus, the whimpering and whining to be let in was a dead giveaway.

Wasn't like he could yell 'be out in a minute, hang on I'm taking a leak' with that little guy, plus he had to stop the racket he was making, so he hauled himself up, unlocked the door and quietly shut it again when Angus clattered into the room.

"Hey, be quiet, you're supposed to be sleeping," Dean whispered to the dog who was far too hyper for so early in the morning it was still called night. When people said dogs were hard work, they weren't kidding. "At least we've got each other for company huh?" Dean sat back on the floor and petted the dog with his good arm to calm the enthusiastic greeting.

After calming down a little, Angus turned to Dean and pouted with concern before he licked at the salty tracks on his face.

If Dean didn't know better, he would have said the once stray dog was his guardian angel, but he knew that that couldn't be. Pulling the warm, wiggly body toward him he buried his head in the furry neck and let himself take what comfort he could.

_**SPN**_

With Mary not yet able to take time off work, the house was silent when Dean gently shifted Angus' curled body so that he could get up. Eyes gritty from lack of sleep and other things, he made sure Sam got up and had breakfast before school, grunts taking the place of actual conversation. Making their way down the cold road, Sam didn't ask how he was like he usually did, so Dean asked him. Sam didn't reply. Dean didn't expect him to, but he was hurt just the same.

Unfortunately visiting hours didn't start until after school was over, so neither of the boys had grounds to skip class. But when they reached the hospital, taking the rather long bus ride as Mary was still at work, they raced through the corridors and were at John's side quicker than they could comprehend.

"Hey boys." John's face lit up when the two somewhat breathless boys walked through the door. He hadn't been in hospital much before and had forgotten the boredom which was made even worse that he felt like shit, and damnit, even though they hadn't been apart long, he missed his family.

While glad to see John's beaming face, the boys faltered for a step before coming to sit by his bedside. He looked worse than the day before; Dean thought that he'd seen zombies healthier looking. There seemed to be more medical stuff in the room, with more wires and tubes fed into his arms and underneath his hospital gown, and his voice was moving from gruff to strained territory. When the nurses had mumbled something about him not getting any sleep, they weren't kidding.

"Hey dad," Sam was smiling. This was the first time he'd seen his dad awake in over twenty for hours so he was pretty happy about that, even with how sick he looked.

"Hey kiddo, so the nurse told me you put up quite a fuss yesterday before you went home." John was using his dad voice, yup, he was in pain, barely keeping his eyes open and yet he still managed to be a dad.

"Sorry, I just wanted to stay. I thought you'd get bored alone all night."

"Nah, wasn't so bad, I got cable, what more could a guy ask for?"

Sam smiled and managed a weak laugh. It made John immediately feel a little better; far more effective than the painkillers he was already on. If he had been able, he would have breathed a deep sigh of relief to see his kids. He would have been even happier to not be there in the first place feeling like crap and having to count the seconds after his pain meds wore off until his next injection. Hospitals were meant to be a place of rest, a place to get well from being... well... not well. But he'd never felt more humiliated in his life than he had today. Lying in bed all day sleeping in a drugged haze might sound easy, but it wasn't, not even close. It made him feel utterly pathetic... so pathetic it sickened him all the more, and wasn't that just a bitch on your already sore ass?

He was glad for his boys company, even if it was only for a few hours at most. It reminded him why he had to get his ass up and better. It was awful to admit, but he had forgotten at times today while sitting alone, or being prodded and poked for hours with nurses and doctors talking to him like he was an idiot, or worse, to each other like he wasn't there at all. When you lose your health for a bit, your brain doesn't go alongside, that sticks around thankfully, but John guessed there's just some things they don't teach in medical school.

"Hey dad... have they said when you can come home?" translation: when will you not be sick anymore?

How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

_**TBC...**_

_**Again, sorry, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter at least x **_


	17. Caught in the undertone

_**Long story short- got sick, went to the hospital, got better, came home. Felt ill again, avoided the hospital, got better. Today, I feel like crap on crap, but I don't have a fever so I'm thinking it might just be the kinda ill normal people get... it's a bit weird, I have no idea what it feels like, I'm never 'normal' sick. **_

_**I was going to wait 'til I wrote another chapter but I just want some reviews to make me feel better... no, scratch that, I NEED them. Ah love you guys! I'm sorry I'm whining so much.**_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V **

**Caught in the undertone**

They were all sitting around John's bed; it was the first time they'd all been in the room together while he was awake. It was depressing to John what things seemed like a godsend these days. Though it was a rare event, he was not only awake, but lucid and feeling a little better today.

The doctor had finally managed to confirm the diagnosis of John's illness - or illnesses rather - around mid week. The results: a heaping helping of pleurisy and nice side order of pneumonia, all flavoured with a generous seasoning of stress and anxiety. John had to admit, the last two, probably the most embarrassingly pathetic diagnosis he'd ever heard.

"Could be worse," was the motto John was holding onto, though sometimes it didn't feel like it. It was so hard to explain, he couldn't even explain it to himself let alone when the doctors asked, but everything hurt, everything, even the ends of his toe nails were in agony. He tried to downplay it when his family came by, but it was so hard.

Mary, as usual, was amazing, so busy doing everything for everyone it made him dizzy just watching her. Most could never tell just by looking that she was frazzled and worried, but he saw and he knew. If he hadn't already been in the hospital he would have put himself there for causing her so much trouble.

His day got a thousand times better as she greeted him with a kiss. "Is it a saint? Is it an angel?" _no it's my freakin' amazing wife._ The rest went in spoken as Mary's bright smile lit up the room.

She was thrilled that her husband was looking a bit better today, but knew that her boys were having a tough time and she had just the thing to hopefully cheer everyone up. She waited for John to open his eyes and smile at her before she tugged the paper from her handbag.

"Dean, sweetie, I've got something for you, I found it while I was cleaning up," yup, the woman had everyone to take care of, and herself, and she still found time to clean the house.

She handed Dean the envelope he'd long forgotten about in the midst of all the crises lately. She didn't want to make her boy feel over crowded or make a scene, but this was a proud moment for them all. Dean told them countless times he thought he was hopeless in the school department, so the simple fact that he had even taken the tests made her proud, no matter what the results.

Dean, however, had a much different perspective. Reluctantly, he took the envelope but didn't open it, couldn't even look at it, just sat with it between his palms and decided to watch the steady bleeps of John's heart rate on the machine instead.

"Open it kiddo, come on," came the gentle nudge from John.

Dean shook his head and ducked his head, wasn't that just pathetic.

"Please Dean," Sam begged, speaking to his brother properly for the first time in too long, using the tone Dean never could say no to.

He handed over the envelope to Sam without a word. Maybe if someone else opened it, he wouldn't curse the results. The kid never got lower than an A minus so maybe if he opened it somehow he'd get those marks too? Yeah, like he said- pathetic.

"I can't open it," Sam insisted handing it back, the words had a care about them, but it didn't cover the undertone of bitterness Dean could have sworn he heard.

Reluctantly, Dean sighed and ripped opened his envelope, took out the sheets of paper inside, and unfolded with caution. _Please be good, please be good. Please Lord I'm begging you please don't let me be a total disappointment to them, just one good grade please._ He didn't usually pray, but he would for them.

His world came crashing down when he saw the letters in front of his eyes. The best grade was an A, woodworking of course, but the rest... well, who used math, English or science in real life anyway...?

"Better than I thought," he lied. Smiling and shrugging his shoulders, he handed the papers to John, it being the best way to convince them he wasn't totally ashamed if himself right now. He'd let them down, he'd thought he'd done okay, he thought maybe, just maybe something had to go right in his life, if not for himself, then for the family he loved. But no, he couldn't even get a simple math test right could he? He was surprised he was still shocked by his monumental failings.

"Huh, this is okay, not bad for a first set of exams Dean, I'm proud of you. And an A Dean, that's pretty awesome kid."

Sam nodded, and Mary smiled, "well done sweetheart."

Lies, the lot of them, the smiles, the reassurances, he'd be pissed, usually he was, why wasn't he livid that they were lying out of their asses to make him feel better? Why didn't he feel offended by that anymore? Why was he almost taking comfort in their false hope?

John looked concerned, he shouldn't, he couldn't afford to worry. Dean had to perk the hell up no matter how much it hurt, or get out of the room fast, he could slit his wrists when he got home... maybe figuratively, maybe literally, he hadn't decided yet. "Oh crap... uh, do you guys mind if I go for half an hour?"

They all frowned, okay that wasn't his best attempt at faking to be fine. He'd have to work on that.

"I just gotta go do something."

"What?" Sam asked watching Dean as he stood from his chair, straightening out his shirt.

"Angus, I forgot to take him for a walk yesterday and..."

"_What_?" Mary was afraid to ask.

"Uh, forgot to take him out in the yard this morning, I'm really sorry." Dean winced and projected sincerity for all his life was worth. He hadn't forgotten at all, Angus was fine, Steve even said he'd drop by their house to check on him before coming to the hospital this evening, but Dean had to get out of this damn room before he did something he'd regret.

Mary looked at him thoughtfully. Dean loved that dog and there was no way that he would have forgotten to do anything for him. It was more likely he was getting overwhelmed and needed to go for a run. "Go," Mary handed him change for the bus anyway. "We'll see you in a little while?"

"Yeah," he took the money and headed out of the room, forcing his legs to take him at the speed he needed to go to make his exit look natural. When he rounded the corner he felt the burning build, tears welled in his and his legs started to swing one in front of the other faster than he ever thought possible. It wasn't long before he was sprinting down the hospital corridors with tears down his face pleading for a way out.

He'd tried so hard, he always tried so hard, he really did, and he always failed. What was the point anymore?

He couldn't make it home, couldn't wait that long, he felt ready to shatter like a damn broken mirror. Dodging nurses and the odd concerned look, he found a bathroom in some dark, empty room and locked himself in securely before leaning against the wall and then collapsing on the floor in a pit of agony and repulsion.

He swung his head back at the wall and was disappointed when there was a lack of a sickening crack of his skull. Why did the walls have to be so damn fragile? Why couldn't they be thick concrete that did some damage? He swung his head back a few more times and the ache in his skull grew into a throb.

Before he could even feel the cold metal against his fingertips, he was cutting, not short and sweet, but long and painful and deep and numerous. It wasn't enough, it didn't hurt enough, nothing was going numb, and he'll be damned if he didn't try harder to give himself the pain he deserved.

You weren't supposed to, but he couldn't stop himself, he cut deep and horizontal across his wrist where his pulse thumped hard. Blood welled, lots of it, he dropped the knife with a clink and pressed hard to the newwst cut. The bleeding didn't stop, it seeped through his fingers and dripped to the floor. He found himself smiling, and breathing a sigh of happy relief. It was sick, hell it was downright insane, but he didn't care.

Half an hour later, once the flow ebbed to a stop and he felt more in control, he picked himself up from the floor and cleaned up the mess he'd made. Swiping at the scattered red dots and streaks until they were only faint pinkish smudges on the otherwise gleaming white porcelain, he detachedly was astonished at how much there was and glad that hospitals were designed to be easy tidy ups. Splashing water over his pale face and slapping his cheeks, getting the color of them to match his red eyes, he stared at the mirror and felt... nothing.

Fishing out the bandages he stole yesterday from the cart some moron left outside John's room, he wrapped his arm, making a mental note to check them later in case any needed stitches, then tugged his long sleeves back down to hide the evidence. One last check of the room and he was pleased, it looked like it had when he'd first came in, like not a soul had been in for years.

Okay, he now had to get home, to at least make it look convincing he hadn't been crying like a total girl, not the mention the other thing.

He was more self conscious leaving the bathroom than he was running into it, he was lost, had no idea where he was or where he was meant to be and didn't want to draw attention to himself. Blindly following the seemingly endless colored lines on the floor, he jogged through the halls, his head down, blind to everything around him.

"Whoa, hey Dean-" the person he'd just slammed into rounding the corner caught his arm making him hiss. "Hey kid, what's up?" the familiar voice was laced with more concern than Dean could bear to hear.

"Get offa me," he yanked his arm away and turned his back before Steve could see any more. He could barely fool his family with his 'I'm fine' face, there was no way he could fool a cop. He definitely had to work on that, but first he had to get out!

Dean was moving faster now, ducking and darting through the hallways, Steve following close behind. While Dean was young, fit and agile, Steve had many years of tracking and catching unwilling persons and it didn't take long for someone in a busy corridor to cut Dean off and give the man time to catch up.

Catching the teenager around the shoulders he spun Dean around towards him, shocked at the shattered look on his face. The kid's eyes were so bloodshot they made the green irises look practically luminescent.

"What's going on? Is your dad..." surely if John was any worse, Dean wouldn't be running around the hospital looking like hell, he'd been in the waiting room promising Sam everything would be okay.

"No... he's fine. Jus..., just let me go," he turned once again now his path was clear, only to yelp loudly as his bad arm was yanked back. He jumped in shock.

"Whoa, hey, what the hell...?" he'd felt something under Dean's shirt, and it wasn't a few more layers of clothing. Steve didn't wait to give Dean the opportunity to run for it, but pulled the kid to an empty room close by, shut the door, then took Dean's arm back and lifted his sleeve, Dean unsuccessfully tugging for it back and growling at him the whole time. "Shit Dean." Thin lines of blood had seeped through the white bandages, it was clear even without seeing the actual wounds what it was. He'd seen it a few times over the years; he never expected to see it on a Winchester.

"Get the hell off me." It wasn't a plea, it was a warning this time, a cold, hard threat.

"Did you do this to yourself?" stupid question, but Steve had to give the kid a chance.

"I said get the fucking hell off of me right now before I make you regret it."

"And _I_ said, did you do this to yourself?" Steve repeated. He'd had more threats thrown his way in his career than Dean could imagine, a young boy wasn't going to scare him off. Sure he was downright terrified right now, but it wasn't for himself.

"Just shut up."

"Dean-"

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know me! Just leave me the hell alone!"

"Kid, you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Who are you to tell me what the hell I can and can't do? If I wanna slit my damn wrists, I can and you can't say shit about it."

Steve took a deep breath, he shouldn't be doing this, John and Mary should be the ones talking to Dean right now.

"Dean, I have to tell..."

"You can't tell them, no way, please I'm begging you, they can't find out. They've got enough shit without worrying about me. Please Steve, please don't tell them. You can do whatever the hell you like with me but please don't tell them." The deadly venomous speech was gone, Dean now had tears in his eyes and looked more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen anyone.

"Why are you doing this? Is it 'cause your dad's sick?" it wasn't a promise as such, but it was close enough.

"He's not even my dad," Dean mumbled.

_I beg to differ._ "Dean, you can talk to me, come on kid, I can't promise not to tell them but I'm on your side son, no matter what.

Dean hung his head pitifully low. "I try, I swear man, I try... but it just makes everything worse. I just don't know what to do anymore. What's the point of anything?" _What's the point of life?_

For the first time in his life... Steve had no words.

_**TBC...**_

**Just posting this makes me feel better! **** I'm now off to re-fill my hotwater bottle. xoxox**


	18. Maybe if my heart stops beating

**Thank you guys so much for waiting and being so awesome. I think I'm getting back into the swing of things! :D**

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Maybe if my heart stops beating (it won't hurt this much)**

Sam stared at the ceiling, it was kinda blurred, but what did you expect when you've been crying all night? The darkness wasn't over, but it sure as hell felt like it had lasted long enough. Was this night a never ending hell or what?

He choked back another sob, placing his pillow over his face as it fought to break free, refusing to be crushed. Couldn't wake mom up, she had to worry about dad now and managing the shop and work and... _Dean_, what about Dean? He'd been locked in his bedroom since they came home from the hospital. Steve had come by his dad's room and said he'd found Dean wandering the halls lost, and he was going to take him home instead of leaving him to the bus. Just before he left for home, Uncle Steve had dragged his mom from the room... He knew she'd been upset, what with everything that was going on, and she tried not to show it, but she looked even worse when she came back to sit by his dads bed.

On top of that, Dean never came back to the hospital like he said he would after taking care of Angus, which was odd enough, but what was even worse, Steve only left their house - left Dean - after he and his mom came back, which was close to three hours later.

Sam wasn't stupid, he knew Dean wasn't happy with his exam results, and he knew he'd never forget Angus, and he had an awful feeling his big brother was going to do something stupid, soon, if he hadn't already done it. But it killed him that he was too dense to even attempt to talk to Dean this last week. He'd been so wrapped up with worrying about his dad, his mom, school, not wanting to be treated like a kid, he felt like he'd forgotten to worry about his brother as well. They were his parents now too, his dad in the hospital, his mom running around so much, so fast, she might collapse. They should have worried together, should have been in it as one, as a family, how Sam always wished it would be. Instead, something told him he had cut Dean out this week, treated him like a ghost, a nothing. The one time Sam could have shown Dean once and for all he was part of the family... was the one time he had given his older brother every reason to prove he was still the outsider he believed himself to be.

The odd creak of the loose board in the hall was enough to break him from the tornado of his thoughts. Another sob, louder this time came from his lips, the pillow muffled it a little, but obviously not enough when he heard the gentle voice of his mother as she opened his door.

"Sammy? Baby, you okay?"

He twisted his face away from the dim outside light, but he didn't need to answer, she had already seen the tears. He could hear the quiet click of the door shutting and her near silent footsteps before feeling the dip of the mattress as she sat beside him. Sniffling, he angrily wiped at his face, mad at himself for wanting to not be treated like a child and here he was acting like one, when he felt the cool fingers of his mother carding through his hair. It was too much. Turning towards her, he curled up against her and sobbed, catching a glimpse of her own glazed eyes in the moonlight. Wordlessly, she pulled back the covers then squashed in beside her crying son on the single mattress, running a hand through his hair until they both fell into a restless sleep.

_**SPN**_

The next day after school, another silent bus ride to the hospital, when the boys walked through the doors leading to their dad, they were both shocked to find their mom sitting beside him.

"Hey boys." John didn't look any better, but he was smiling at least, even if it was forced.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Sam took a seat in the empty chair beside her, leaving Dean to walk around the bed for the one on the other side.

"Got off work early," was her only explanation, not exactly specific but it was simple enough Sam didn't feel the need to ask a million questions.

"Hey Sammy, you wanna get me a paper from the shop downstairs?"

Sam nodded, taking the wallet his father handed him from his bedside table. He looked to Dean to ask if he was coming too, he couldn't help but smile when his brother stood and walked out of the door with him.

"Hey Dean?"

It was only when Dean looked at him, and he looked back for the first time in a good week, that Sam noticed the darkness behind his brothers eyes. How long had that been there? Why was it there? And most importantly, why hadn't be seen it before and done something about it?

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, why?" Dean asked, his tone both defensive and slightly offended.

_Okay Dean, that brick wall was subtle big brother. _

Sam shrugged. "You've been quiet."

"So have you."

_Okay, good point._

"I was just asking if you were okay, my mistake."

Dean sighed, okay he was being a jerk, and Sam was the last person that deserved it.

"Sorry." Dean didn't explain why he was sorry, but Sam accepted it anyway.

"Me too," he whispered to himself when Dean sped up and walked to the shop leaving him to wander in slowly behind.

_**SPN**_

The rest of the evening was pretty much eventless, aside from a few nurses coming to collect more of John's blood and giving him stronger meds after the doctor said the ones he was on weren't working as well as they hoped.

They idly chatted and then worked together as a group filling in the paper's crossword puzzle, Dean's silence easily covered by Sam's enthusiasm and John's teasing. The older boy was glad to see his brother smiling again and to be able to see the genuine warmth of the small family, even if he didn't feel a part of it. When Sam left to get a soda from the vending machine it was like a light went out, taking all the ease of the moment with it and leaving a thick cloud of tension.

Dean's gut screamed 'trouble', and he was already rising and mumbling an excuse to get himself the hell away from there when Mary walked around and stopped him from leaving with a hand on his shoulder.

Stomach sinking like a stone, Dean didn't get to ask what was wrong when he saw Mary's concerned face; she was speaking before he even had the chance to.

"Dean, sweetie, we need to talk."

He frowned and refused to look up. He could all but feel the looks that Mary and John were passing between them, so... great... now they could communicate how much of a fuck up he was without words... hopefully this would be a really short conversation.

"Steve talked to us yesterday."

_Fuck!_ "That son of a bitch! He told you?" he bolted from his chair so fast it was almost knocked to the floor. He barely noticed Mary quickly moving to shut the door. Rivers of cold icy blood pounded through his body, his face grew red and his chest thumped with anger, and shame.

"Dean, kiddo listen, he had to tell us okay? For your own sake, even if you don't realise it, he did it with good intention. What was he supposed to do? Find you in the corridors crying and keep it to himself?"

_Uh... what? _

Backing up as far as he could in the small room, Dean did his best to hide the confusion and keep anger planted firmly on his face "What did he tell you?" he asked carefully so as not to put his foot in it.

"It's okay to be upset honey, you don't have to excuse yourself from the room if you are, okay?"

_He just told them I was crying like a girl... not the rest?_

"I'm sorry."

He kept his eyes to the floor, unable to look at them in the eye, they might have only half the story but the half they did have was still true.

"Honey, we know you weren't happy with your results, but I promise you that we are so proud of you. For everything. Dean you've suffered through more than anyone should, let alone a child, and you're still here, you still fight and you've made a whole new life for yourself. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

He squirmed, god he hated praise, it made him feel like a dirty liar how these people couldn't see him for what he really was. Pushing his back against the wall, ignoring the twinges it caused, he tried to subtly inch towards the door, only to stop cold at John's next words.

"Dean, stop."

John was pushing back the thin hospital blankets and getting ready to leave the bed so Dean had no choice but to come a little closer, worried if John stood he wouldn't be able to catch him in time when he fell. He was out of breath just with sitting up, Dean refused to hurt the man more than he already had.

"Look... there's something I haven't told you, I kept it to myself because I thought you'd realise that you were wrong but..." _obviously not._ "Just before I first woke up, I heard you talking, about how you felt this was all your fault, how you messed up this family like you did your own."

Dean blinked back the tears and looked up for a brief moment, by the looks of things Mary didn't even know this one.

"You haven't Dean, me being sick has nothing to do with you. How can you possibly have power over a virus?"

"But they said stress..."

"Yeah, well, doctors don't know jack, I'm telling you Dean this is not your fault, neither was what happened to your parents, so you better stop beating yourself up, that's an order. You are not responsible for everything that goes bad in the world, okay? So stop it."

"Yes sir." It was the first time he had called John by a formal title in over two years, but John didn't call him on it this time.

"Dean... son... I'm counting on you to look out for Sammy, so you gotta be tough, okay? You gotta concentrate on the things that matter."

Dean nodded, and did his best to hide the pain as he listened to more orders, and only half of them did he intend to keep.

Mary wiped her eyes when Sam shuffled back into the room, a couple of sodas in hand followed by a nurse.

"Sorry guys, visiting hours are over."

They were scurried from the room so fast Sam didn't even have chance to ask why everyone looked so upset all of a sudden. When he handed his brother his can of cola in the car on the way home his questions were once again dodged until he was left pouting, his head against the cool window glass, not even his brother noticing his tears.

_**SPN**_

By the next week, things hadn't gotten much better, in fact, If it was even possible, they just about got ten times worse.

Sam was quiet, which of course led to an even quieter Dean. They hadn't talked much, Sam had given up on asking questions that were never answered and Dean had given up all together. Days were slow and painful, but neither of them wanted the night to come, ever; when it got dark and the lights were out, they were riddled with nightmares.

Nearly pushed off the bed by thrashing legs, Angus shook himself and moved to sniff at his keepers face and pulled back at the sour smell of fear and pain. Whining, Angus pawed at the twitching arms, finally barking like crazy trying to wake his owner up. When his efforts were finally successful he dashed down the hall, up the stairs to wake a whimpering Sam as well. It was like he knew. Mary woke at the desperate barking and went to see to her boys, Sam, being the closest, was her first stop. She found Angus curled up next to him and then her youngest sent her off downstairs.

When she came into Dean's bedroom, he then insisted she leave to take care of Sam. _Typical_. Smoothing the mussed hair, she tried to calm the troubled scowl, got him to drink some water and a promise to try and get some more sleep. Then her nights would usually be spent by her baby's side, stroking Angus with him, hoping these nightmares that plagued her boys, and herself, would end soon.

When alone, Dean would sneak off to the bathroom with his knife, he'd make small cuts, a few of them if he felt he had time, he'd make just one long deep one if not. Once he was... satisfied, and the bleeding stopped enough it wouldn't drip on his blue sheets, he'd go back to his bedroom and stare at the ceiling, loathing himself until the sun came up, and the routine started all over again. He had to be more careful now though, Steve may not have said anything, but he was over constantly and watching him like a hawk, using any and all excuses to stay close. Dean knew it was just a matter of time before he ratted him out, but when he was cutting, he just didn't care.

Today though the routine was broken and Dean was able to think about something else for what felt like the first time in too long. Today when Steve had come around he'd given them news that another boy had gone missing. It was the same kid Dean had threatened to beat the life out of a couple of weeks ago and, for some reason, Dean felt guilty.

It was just meant to be a way of making conversation before Steve left for work, a random comment on another kid going missing in the active case the police had prioritised these days. Dean was able to breathe for the first time in weeks, forgetting himself in the thrill of the kill he was certain would be happening tonight.

He'd excused himself to his room, collected all his research and meticulously reviewed it one more time before gathering every silver weapon he owned.

"Dean! You ready sweetie?" Mary asked picking up her purse and car keys.

Covering his weapons with his duvet cover he got up and went down the hall. There he saw Mary ready and waiting to go to the hospital, Sam already in the car.

"You okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine I just... I think I need... tell dad I'm sorry. I'll see him tomorrow. I got homework and-"

"Are you sure you're okay alone?"

"I'll be fine, just homework."

"You feeling better this week?" Despite John's objections, she was a hair from calling a therapist one of her friends had recommended and taking Dean there even if he was kicking and screaming.

"Um... I'm okay," he shrugged, no use in saying 'oh yeah I feel fab now thanks to our little chat', that act would be as transparent as the freakin' glass windows. "It'll be better when dad comes home. Sammy will be better then."

Despite how worry and the pit in her stomach that told her the talk in the hospital hadn't made a blind bit off difference, she smiled - Dean had called John 'dad', it was the best thing that had happened in weeks.

She looked over her shoulder at Sam waiting in the car, he looked as lost as Dean. She had talked to him too, and he had of course said he was fine. Her boys obviously needed their dad back, Dean was right, things would be better when John came home, for them all. Her eyes were glazed with tears as she took Dean's hand in hers. "Promise me the next time you're upset, you tell me, or Sam, or John, or even Steve if you feel better about that, but you can't keep it inside Dean, that didn't work before, it's not going to now."

Dean nodded, and took his hand back slowly.

"Stay in the house, okay? Or take some... equipment if you do go out."

Dean nodded, and tried not to wince when he realized that Mary obviously was aware that he still had some weapons left.

"See you later honey, be good." _Stay safe, don't let __me__ down._

She left and locked the door behind her, obviously intent on keeping him inside. Dean went back to his room where Angus was waiting, even the dog looked less than impressed at him, like he was up to something he shouldn't be. Angus barked, loud, short, snappy, _angry, _and huddled away, refusing to look at him.

"I gotta do this." It was like he had to not only convince his pup, but himself too.

He could hear the loud rumble of the Impala starting up and its gradual diminishing as the car was driven from the house until all was silent.

Another smile crept to Dean's lips. Show time.

He was grateful the hunt had finally come to a head in his opinion, now seven kids missing, it was time to end it. It would be a good thing if the ending was of the supernatural freak out there terrorizing families, but it wouldn't be so bad if the end came to the pathetic whimpering loser he was. Either way, an ending was an ending.

"Be good, look after Sammy for me okay?"

Angus whined this time, his paw going out, his eyes pleading for his master not to go.

Checking his weapons one last time, Dean zipped up his bag, swung it over his shoulder, ignoring his painfully tense back, then went out into the night.

He'd figured out all the kids were around the same age, all athletic cool guy types, so perfect and happy it was enough to make his teeth rot. No wonder he hadn't made the cut. It seemed there was no blood, and barely signs of struggles at the kidnapping sites. From experience he knew that if an evil son of a bitch wanted to kill you, and had killed you, they'd want everyone to know about it, they'd want the applause of pain and sorrow from grieving families. So, in theory, they all still should be alive. Something was collecting, and what do you usually do with fit, agile young guys if you took them? You make as many copies of them as you liked. He and good old Uncle Ron took a job once, very similar, if not identical - kids went missing, no struggle, no trace. It turned out to be a nice, sweet shape shifter, reflective eyes, regenerating skin, the whole nine, wanting to collect some 'perfect humans' to copy whenever it wanted. Maybe shape shifters had a bad memory for faces and needed them to stick around to be able to copy one it fancied. Whatever the hell their kinky thing was, Dean knew the profile the second he saw the similarities between the lost kids.

He peddled faster on his bike in the direction he found most hunts in this town, the dark outskirts, it made it easy when the woods and cemeteries are neighbours, close confined, abandoned for the most part and filled with shadows. Perfect breeding grounds or what?

Okay, this wasn't one of his better executed plans, usually he'd find the creature's lair, have time to get his bearings before going in for the kill, but he didn't really care if he stumbled upon it and walked right into the lion's mouth today. To say he was feeling reckless and impulsive was an understatement, it was sort of thrilling, fun almost.

His pleasant thoughts were abruptly stopped, right at the edge of his destination, when a crack in the road beneath his wheels caught him off guard and sent him crashing towards the ground over the handlebars.

"Fuck!" if it had been anything less than tarmac, he would have decked the ground on principle alone.

Heavy footsteps grinding the loose gravel on the road beneath their boots had Dean on his feet, silver blade in hand from the back of his jeans. Maybe this was too easy.

"Hey, kid. You all right?" A tall, younger guy in somewhat grubby ripped jeans and a jacket sauntered towards him, flicking away his cigarette.

Dean quickly stuffed the knife back in place. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just took a header."

"Yeah, I saw dude, really impressive!" the guy raised his hands and backed off a little smiling, showing he meant no harm. "You sure you're okay, looks like you're bleeding a little there."

Dean swiped at his head and was surprised for it to come back red. "Thanks, but I'm fine, really."

"Well, let me help you with your bike anyway." Moving quickly the young man hustled forward to right the bike only to be stopped by Dean's hand on his arm.

"Leave it, I can look after myself." Dean was starting to get really annoyed. Nice was one thing, but this guy was a good Samaritan on steroids.

"Can you, can you really?" A feral smile replaced the innocent one and before he knew it his own knife was being held tauntingly in front of him.

"Well well well, what do we have here? A young man all by his lonesome, out in the open, just begging to be monster food. Tsk, tsk, I swear, this town almost makes it impossible to have fun. I mean where's the hunt, where's the chase? This is just all too easy." All pretence dropped the creature circled its prey, twirling the blade almost carelessly so the silver glimmered in the moonlight.

"Where are the others?" Dean glared at the 'man' before him, pushing away the momentary shock of being caught unaware. While his hands felt decidedly empty, neither a Turner nor a Winchester came unprepared and the wicked blade flashing in front of him wasn't alone. Tracking the things movement his hand crept back to his waistband.

"Others?" the creature was almost childlike - damn that was creepy.

"Yeah, you fuck bag of mucus, the other guys you took, where are they?"

"Now really, is that a nice way to speak to your elders?"

"Tell me where they are," Dean warned slowly.

The creature sneered, contempt on his otherwise handsome face. "Only a hunter would be stupid enough to make demands when _they_ are the prey. Well, you guys are as bossy and arrogant as ever, they haven't changed the section on manners in the hand book huh? I think maybe you need to be taught a lesson."

With barely a flicker of motion Dean felt a sting of pain and looked down at his arm, surprised to see a slice in the fabric of his jacket and feel a trickle of blood down his arm. A normal person would have felt fear and perhaps begged for their lives, but Dean didn't care, it wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before, and if things went truly south, he might actually be relieved. Besides, he still had a trick or two up his sleeve... literally.

"Just shut your mouth and tell me where the others are, and I won't..."

"You won't what? Bore me to death?" the creature laughed, "Hmm, I'm thinking I'm the one in charge here, so I'm gonna take a rain check on that, maybe later ya know, after _your_ organs are spilled across your mother's front porch."

"You really like the sound of your own voice don't you?"

"Well, it's not really my voice. But I don't mind it."

Dean advanced quickly, sick of the chit chat, he pulled out his back-up and drove the knife hilt deep into the creature's shoulder - that should be persuasive.

It wasn't.

"I liked this jacket you little prick." Reaching up he drew the bloody knife out and dropped it to the ground without a flinch.

_Okay, silver didn't work, not a shape shifter, fuck. _

"What are you?"

"Take a guess, it'll be fun, like charades or something."

Dean paused for a second, collecting himself, trying not to panic over how fucked he was, how fucked the others were. "Ghoul?" if so, he could try to take its head off, it was messy but he didn't have his guns anymore.

"Ew, god no, that has got to be one of the most insulting, repulsive guesses I've had in my existence. I should kill you just on principle."

Having no choice, Dean slid his last blade out of the holster on his arm, it being silver would make no difference apparently, but it was sharp and that's all that mattered. Kicking out at the creature's knee, trying to knock it off balance, failed spectacularly when the creature blocked his leg like he knew it was coming and sent _him_ stumbling backwards. He then swung at its face, a short yelp coming from his own lips when the rock hard jaw connected with his knuckles. Ignoring the pain he continued fighting, wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, the fire in his belly willing him to go on, even though he had nothing to go on to.

Knocked off his feet, again, he looked up at the chuckling creature as he scrambled back up, paying no attention to the new dizziness which was making the world oh so slightly spin.

"As much as I'm enjoying watching you torture yourself, I'd rather get on with doing it myself. On the bright side, my guess is you've forgotten to bring the holy water along today. At least this one will be fun, you've got spunk, I like that. I presume ripping you limb from limb will be more entertaining than the others."

His eyes flicked to glossy, deep black holes and Dean couldn't stop the whimpering cry from coming out.

_Oh fuck._

He considered running, he didn't care about dying, but he wasn't going to shame his parents by dying the same way they did.

"Dean Dean Dean, finally getting it are we?"

"H-how do you know my n-name?"

"Your mother screamed for you when I burned the flesh from her bones."

Bile rose in Dean's throat, god he was choking, his heart refused to beat, his legs refused to move, his arms refused to even attempt to swing. He was frozen in blind fear.

"Oh lighten up, don't get all pussy on me now, it gets old very fast."

Tears welled in his eyes, his hands fisted so tight by his sides his nails were drawing blood.

The demon sighed, "Mind reader, remember?"

It didn't help. Maybe the demon was trying to reassure him – yeah right. Dean didn't have a whole lot, okay, any, experience with demons, but he knew being comforting wasn't one of their traits. Dean had a feeling he wasn't the one that killed his parents after he said that, but it didn't help his heart to beat again. However, the cold fist cracking against his cheekbone, snapping back his head, did the trick.

"Come on boy, show me what you got." When Dean didn't pick himself up, the demon looked disappointed, grabbing his ankle and dragging him across the cold stiffened earth, his back being grazed as the jacket he was wearing bunched up along with the thin shirt he left the house in. His skin sanded off little by little before he got his fight back and started kicking out, the adrenalin pumping through him was enough to give him the strength to pull from the hold.

_**TBC...**_


	19. Just scattered pieces of who I am

_**Hope you all enjoyed Thanksgiving and Black Friday. I don't celebrate them and I have no idea what the last one is but... either way, who can dis Turkey, tatties and gravy? :D **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Just scattered pieces of who I am**

"Come on boy, show me what you got."

When Dean didn't pick himself up, the demon looked disappointed, grabbing his ankle and dragging him across the cold stiffened earth, his back being grazed as the jacket he was wearing bunched up along with the thin shirt he left the house in. His skin sanded off little by little before he got his fight back and started kicking out, the adrenalin pumping through him was enough to give him the strength to pull from the hold.

"That's more like it boy!"

He kicked his legs out and swung them around as the demon stepped to his left, causing him to fall just long enough for Dean to find his feet. As he too stood, the demon looked pleased, excited even. His smile grew when Dean reached behind his back and found... nothing, no more weapons, no salt, no holy water, he was class A screwed. But he hadn't been pounding on his punching bag all these years for show, he knew how to fight with his bare hands and damn if he wasn't going to go down fighting or he might as well spit on his parents graves.

Dean rolled up his sleeves, loosened his shoulders and settled his balance, it was now or never... this was going to hurt, hopefully for them both. Not waiting for the thing to make its move, Dean charged, hitting the demon square in the jaw, the full force of his body behind it causing the creature to stagger with the shocking force, but it didn't last long. Twisting so fast it was a blur the demon sent an elbow with crushing speed towards Dean's throat that he only barely managed to avoid. Punching sideways Dean felt the satisfying crunch of the demon's nose and the warm spray of blood on his knuckles. His all too brief whoop of victory cut short as he lost his breath to a knee to the stomach.

"Not bad, boy, in a few years I might even be scared but now..." the demon smiled, wiping away the trickles of blood coming from his nose and mouth, "...now, you're going to have to do better than that."

Oxygen restored to his aching lungs, Dean attacked again, only to be blocked by the demons forearm, he tried to kick, again only to be blocked. Dean's frustration grew as his assaults were consistently pushed aside while the demon seemed to be able to connect at will.

"Well kid, I've got to thank you for the entertainment, but I think it's time for the main event." Straightening, loathsome smile firmly in place, he flicked his hand.

Before he could get another hit in, Dean was dragged around by the collar of John's old leather jacket by an invisible force and veered into the nearest tree. Lucky for him it wasn't a fat son of a bitch like it's neighbour, but in the process of his collision, Dean felt a sear of pain through his scalp when the side of his head hit the hard wood.

When the fog of his vision finally cleared, and his mind discarded the impossibility of what just happened, Dean noticed he'd lost his jacket - it must have gotten yanked right off him as he was swung hard. He cursed the evil fuck when he whipped the jacket at his head, the slap of worn leather against his cheek made his ears ring and, before he knew it, he was on the ground again after a knee collided with his face, effectively breaking his nose. It was okay, he'd had worse from his uncle.

"You hit... like... a... girl," he grunted with a smirk, he was barely bleeding, okay that was a lie, the crimson from his nose was already soaking in the neck of his shirt but he ignored it, not wanting to give the demon a big head or anything, he could read minds apparently.

Just as Dean was set to convince himself that this fuck was nothing more than a big mouth, he was in the air again, crashing first up then down along the trunk of the tree and through it's branches as gravity yanked him back to earth.

"Yaahhh!" he growled out when his already fucked up back was grated viciously – his soft, human skin no match for the coarse, unyielding bark of the tree. "Please!" he cried when he was pulled up from the dirt floor again and he could feel blood seeping through his shirt the more he was pushed into the jagged edges of the bark.

"_Please, oh please it hurts, oh mommy make the mean man stop hu__r__ting me_. Oh grow up!" the demon spat, losing his patience with pathetic whiney humans.

The force pinning him by his shirt was gone, moved now to around his neck, crushing his air supply. Dark spots danced faster until he was given the sweet release of fresh air.

Dean kept his jaw closed, but couldn't help the moan when he was dropped, nor the gasps that forced his mouth to flop open like a fish out of water as he made his descent to the cold ground. He crawled on his hands and knees, trying to back away, he didn't have anything left in him to stand, let alone fight. His face throbbed, his throat was on fire, his cuts stung, and his back... Jesus Christ he was dying.

He did everything he could to not give this jerk the satisfaction of breaking him, but realisation hit when he felt his back being torn to pieces, how do you break something that's already broken?

"P-lee..." he didn't know if he was begging to live, to be let go, or begging for a quick death and the pain to stop.

"You're an embarrassment to humankind, just like dead mother and father, just as pathetic as they were."

Okay, he was going to regret saying that. Dean raked in heaves of air around him, his heart pounding in his ears, but not from pain, not from fear... from pure, oh holy fuck fury straight from hell. "No one... talks shit... about... my parents... you fucker... no one!" it came out rough, but the words were heard.

Dean stormed to his feet and threw himself into the fight again. In half a second he was kneeling down just a little, snatching dirt from the ground before flinging it in the demon's face making him back up in surprise, itching at his now grit covered eyeballs.

Taking advantage of his lead, Dean cracked the son of a bitch's jaw with nothing but his knuckles and rage. He then kneed him in the groin, the demon let out a quick choke, backing up to protect his gonads from further damage. Wow, guess demons have sensitive privates just like the rest of us, "Not so smart mouthed now are you, you sick fuck!" Dean would have laughed if he had the time. Instead he gather up what last bit of adrenaline he had left and kicked out with more force than he ever thought he had in him.

The rest was hazy, happening so fast, yet so slow... the crack, the crunch, the blood, the light going out and death taking over. He had to shake himself to realize it wasn't him. He'd survived and the demon. A fucking _demon_ was choking on its own blood, pinned to a tree with its spiky branch sticking out of its chest. He'd kicked this monster into a tree and sent him to his too quick execution. _Holy fuck__!_

"Help me..." the voice nearby was lost amongst Dean's shock and pain. He didn't even notice the dark smoke leaving the demon's mouth and slithering away.

He'd killed things before, but they had been _things... _now that it was dead the demon was just a guy whose empty eyes and slack face screamed horror.Staring at the body, every ache and scrape magnified until he couldn't feel anymore, Dean sank to his knees, and it was lights out for him too. He wasn't too picky if he never woke up again.

_**SPN**_

"Dean?" Mary yelled out of her front door. Hopefully he hadn't gone far or he'd be back soon. When she found the note Dean had left, she just about cried there on the spot before she realized Sam was standing right next to her. Also, she had told Dean to take some weapons of some sort if he did go out, he could handle himself, they'd been here before, too many times, and Dean had always come back. He'd be fine, he always was, always found his way back to them.

Just to be on the safe side, she called Steve, he cursed rather loudly when she asked him if Dean was around at his house.

"Steve?" she asked, in a tone that definitely said 'tell me everything, now.'

"I'm just worried, there's kids going missing here, there, and everywhere and Dean_...__" might be on a freakin' suicide mission for all I know. _"I'll go look for him."

"No Steve, I think you need to stay home, he found his way to you once." _He might do it again._ "I'll go look if he's not back in a bit.

She knew the wait would kill her, and Sam, but chasing after Dean never lead to anything good. If he wanted space, they had to give him that. He was still learning about normal apple pie life and with John being sick, he had another set of new and not so nice crap to deal with. When it all became too much for her, she considered going back into the hunting life, the one she knew inside and out, the one that came easier than normal life. She'd take herself off for walks to clear her head. If she could handle herself alone when she was not much older than Dean, he certainly could.

"Maybe he went to see John after all, I mean visiting hours aren't closed for another half an hour."

"Alright," Steve sounded worried, more than Mary almost, which did nothing to ease her mind. "I'll call the station and have the guys keep an eye out for him – unofficially - just in case. Call me when he gets home." He made a very obvious point of saying when, not if.

"I will, thanks Steve, good night."

She let out a long sigh after hanging up, god this was never ending, when would things get better? She felt the couch dip next to her.

"It's okay mom, he'll come back."

"Yeah, I know sweetie."_ I just wished your father was here. _All this worry, all this fear, something had to give soon, she hoped she could stay afloat long enough for her boys.

_**SPN**_

It was still dark when he came to, no longer on his knees, but on his side, half his face sunken into the muddy ground. He wanted to spit the vile taste from his mouth, but he just didn't care.

Pounding, just thump thump thump, pain pain pain... his whole body, every nerve burning, screaming, every muscle stiff and frozen, his eyelids felt too painfully heavy to be lifted.

"Help me..."

Déjà vu- he'd heard that cry before... before everything went dark and he'd given in.

"P-pleeaassee..."

His protective instincts taking over, he pushed past the weight and opened his eyes.

He tried to call back, ask the voice to speak up again so he knew at least which direction to go but nothing came out, just a rasp of air, the inside of his throat like broken glass.

_Mental note, don't let a demon choke you next time._

Fuck there wasn't going to be a next time if he didn't move. The demon still pinned to the tree, the body lifeless and cold now. Dean didn't touch it, didn't go near it, but he knew. It was dead, how was going to hide that one?

"Someone p-please."

Dean forced himself to forget about the dead body to concentrate on trying to save whoever needed him right now.

Crawling on his hands and knees, unable to do much else at this moment, Dean made his way closer to the distant whimpers and cries.

He cleared his throat after nothing more came out the second time he tried. It hurt, fuck, but no more than any other part of his body. "H-hey, w'are you?"

The sobbing stopped, cut off by shock that someone had obviously heard him.

"Please!"

Dean followed the echo's, going closer to the darkness, he couldn't see anything, but he could hear - just about.

A couple of minutes, and a lot of shuffles, the woods swept up into a hillside dimpled with dark holes. Edging into the largest, darkest one, Dean felt something solid next to his knee as he crouched closer. It was a leg, _please god let it be the kid and not something else... please god let it be alive._

Dean reached a hand out in the darkness and felt the cold limb and the shivers running through it, okay, it was alive, and it was crying, good signs it was the kid.

Close by he saw something glowing... a flash light! That was too lucky to be true, he was either going crazy, or this was some cruel trick.

Pushing himself up, he staggered for the object before it disappeared like all hallucinations did. He grasped it with his fingers carefully. "Hah!" he cheered unconsciously when it became apparent it was real, the flashlight was real, guess demons liked to see their prey. Great now at least he could see a little.

He turned on his heels and shone it into the cave in front of him. Rock, solid and all around, but a deeper portion led back where he could just see... _Oh god. _

Swallowing back the nausea already crawling up his throat, he backed off hastily, then circled the tight space before he came back to where he had just come from – to the one still alive.

"I'll get you outta here," he vowed to the kid, well, not a kid, but the terror in his eyes, and blood seeping from his mouth made him look no older than Sammy right now.

"Please, I don't wanna die here."

It was the last kid that had gone missing, the jerk from Dean's class, the one he felt guilty about wanting to rip the head off of after that whole 'oh my daddy's gonna buy me a set of new wheels' crap. This was not helping his remorse.

"You're not gonna die here, you'll be all right." Of all the half-truths he'd ever told, he wanted this one to be the most believable. Looking at the holes in his flesh, the blood, the thin but brutal slits across his gut that looked to be deep enough to reveal internal organs, he knew the guy didn't have much time left, but if Dean could do something for him, it would be to make sure he didn't die in this godforsaken hole.

Trying not to vomit at the sight in front of him- blood, lots of blood, too much from one person, way too much. The smell, awful rotting corpse smell, suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. He had a broken, bleeding, blocked to fuck nose and he could still smell the stench, so once again he fought the urge to gag.

"Put your arm around my shoulders, can you do that?"

The kid did his best, but he just couldn't move, it was good enough for Dean who fed the slippy arm over his shoulders himself. He didn't want to think what the wet was on his palm now because there was just so damn much of it.

He wrapped his arms around the kids middle and wasted no time in yanking him up, wincing at the boy's moan of pain as he dragged him out into the fresh air and the pale light of the moon.

"Not far, I swear, you're gonna make it."

"N-not..." came the breathy reply. "C-can't."

"You want that new car, you're gonna have to pull it together. Come on."

"You're the...?" he couldn't finish the sentence, another blood clot coming from his lips and dribbling down his chin. But he didn't need to finish, Dean knew what he was getting at, this was the 'oh it's you' conversation.

"Yeah, that's me. You weren't such a girl then where you? So shut the fuck up with this pussy 'I'm not gonna make it' shit and help me carry your heavy ass."

The kid choked again, Dean guessed it was a laugh or a snort of some sort, either way, his eyelids drooped a little more with the new blood coming from his mouth.

"Hey!" Dean made the mistake of shaking the kid and causing a long, painful cry to be released. It was followed by a few whimpers, but Dean knew that was from himself, the kid was out, limp and just about a hundred pounds heavier. "Hey! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" he didn't, the shivers had stopped, the bleeding was slowing, and on this occasion, it wasn't a good thing.

"Don't do this, wake up! Hey! _Please_! Wake up!" he shook him by the collar of his once blue, now red shirt. "Wake! Up!" he ordered, giving another shake. "No... nonononono please god no please!"

Dean lowered him to the ground, levelling him up against a tree, trying to ignore just how much he hated those fuckers right now. Desperately he jabbed his fingers onto the lolling neck trying to find a pulse, terrified when he found none. As his mind moved from panic to madness, he thought that maybe if he could get the blood to go back in, the kid would live, and he tried to put pressure on the cuts to stop the now non-existent bleeding. Finally, after several frantic minutes, he looked up into the still face and saw... nothing, and realised that the person that was, was gone. The madness passed and misery filled its place. Another life lost, another that he couldn't save. Pulling him from the tree into his arms, Dean started to sob, letting the tears flow until he had none left. He had let the kid down, let them all down, and their families. Gently laying the body back, he sat for a moment before hauling himself to his feet. The families had to know. If, god forbid, it had been Sammy, he would want to know, even if finding out would kill him.

Moving stiff limbs he stumbled down the same path that he had come down, avoided looking at the now cold body of the demon and, to his surprise, found his jacket still in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the tree. Pulling on it's familiar softness, he nearly crumpled with the sudden jolt of longing for his family. How could ever go back to them now?

_**TBC...**_


	20. Pray that something picks me up

_**I hope everyone is having as lovely a week as I am, snowed in, college is closed and all my family is stuck at home, it's weird to have them in the house at once because most times I have off its just me and Cookie bear, but it's really nice. This week is lasting so long and I'm not complaining on bit, this week is awesome! PS. The snow comes to my knees, never in my life have we had it like this, best winter EVER! **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Pray that something picks me up (and sets me down in your warm arms)**

Dean limped along the side walk, sobs coming from him every few minutes, the hunt was over and so was he. He was done, this was the last straw. He couldn't go home, he wasn't safe there, not safe enough to protect himself, or Sam and Mary. The demon was dead, yet he hadn't felt more weak and vulnerable than he felt right now. Not even when he cut or the few seconds before the sweet release.

He couldn't go to Steve, he'd done too much, seen too much. He was grateful to have such a man in his life, the uncle he'd never had, but coming to him like this would send the man straight to Mary, and he couldn't do that to Sam, not after all he promised years ago.

He had one person left, one person that he could depend on to keep him safe, even if it was just his presence, it would be something.

It was dark in the building, some staff were engrossed in unseen tasks at the ward entrance desk, most were nowhere to be seen. All lights were dimmed, so no one would catch the mud he was coated in or the blood and bruises.

Finally finding the room, he slowly turned the door handle and pushed. John was asleep, that was okay, he needed rest.

Dean made his way around the bed, he watched John's face for a few seconds before easing himself onto one of the hospital chairs by his side. Pulling it and himself closer, he stared a little more, detachedly noting that John actually looked a little better, with less equipment blipping and beeping, when he was startled by a wet drop hitting his hand. He hadn't realised a steady stream of tears were flowing down his cheeks until he felt the painful sob in the back of his throat. Laying his head on the sleeping mans shoulder, he let himself cry freely. God what had he done?

A warm hand came around and settled on the back of his head.

"Hey wha-" John gasped in shock at the added weight on his already heavy chest.

Dean moved away, but didn't lift his head, the darkness shielded the blood and the damaged expression he was currently wearing.

"Dean?" This wasn't a question of who was in the room, John would recognise those square stiff shoulders and short cropped hair anywhere. Nor was this a question of why he was there, he didn't care about that. This was a need to know what had Dean so freaked, he was sitting by his bedside, head hung low, shaking, and... whimpering?

John frowned, his heart beating a little faster, the monitor attached to him bleeping a little more often.

"Son, what's going on?"

That just about did it, and Dean allowed himself to be selfish once again and soak up the fatherly concern coming from John. He lifted his head to reveal a swollen, bleeding, lost and shattered face.

"Holy shit!"

He flinched at John's reaction and twisted his hand around his other arm, the one covered in the cuts he'd made over the last month, splitting the newer ones that had barely developed scabs, causing more pain, more of what he deserved.

"Where the hell have you been?" Not a question this time, this was a demand, filled with anger and disappointment.

Dean's face crumbled thoroughly, he let his scarred arm go and his head went back down to meet John's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't... he just... please, I'm sorry."

John clammed up, he'd never seen Dean in any state like this before, sure he'd been pissed, he'd been upset, he'd been lost. The days where he thought about his parents and the days he was forced to confront what his uncle had put him through, shit, those were bad days. But nothing compared to what was in front of John right now, Dean had never been this... broken, devastated shell of a young boy begging for forgiveness.

Not having a clue what was going on, John just settled for comfort, when he had Dean calmed down, then he'd work on the 'what the hells'.

"Ssshh, sssshh, it's okay Ace, it's okay, I gotcha, sshh." He managed to find the strength to push himself up into a sitting position so he could wrap his arms around the beaten boy before. John tugged Dean closer and managed to shuffle up enough so his boy could sit on the edge of the bed. "It's alright, it's alright, sshh, slow down Dean, it's okay. Just slow it down, everything's gonna be okay, I'll make it okay, sshh."

Dean was vibrating, losing his breaths to whimpers, salty tears running into his cuts, nose running mixing with blood. John had his arms full with a babbling sobbing snotty son who was making no sense. Tightening his hold as the tremors grew; he tucked Dean's head under his chin and could feel his own tears drip down onto his son's hair.

"'m'so sorry, I didn't mean to I'm s-s-or-" a hiccup, a choke, whatever it was, it cut Dean off and lead to more tears.

"Sshh, you don't have to be, you don't kiddo." _Please lord I hope he doesn't. _"Just tell me where you've been."

Dean pulled back, but didn't wipe his face, not the tears, not the blood.

"I went- and he... I didn't know... I thought... blood and... dead and I just... but I didn't... _please_."

_Okay, clearly not yet calm enough to get more than a few words out, and definitely not settled enough to make any kind of sense. Good work John._

"Sshhh, okay, we'll talk about it later, it's okay, nothing can get you here, it's alright."

"I-I tried, but... the blood and he... I couldn't... I couldn't h-help it, m'sorry, m'so sorry please don't hate me please."

"Ssshh, I don't hate you, it's okay Dean."

"P-please."

"I know, it's okay. I gotcha son, I'm here, sshh sshh, I'm here."

"It's dead."

"What? What's dead Dean?"

"The blood, it's all... dirty, I'm dirt-y, I h-have to-"

Dean abruptly stood from John's arms and started to pace, scrubbing at the dried red substance on his hands. John always was amazed by Dean's ability to even stand with the injuries he had endured over the years, never mind pace, but he didn't missed the fact the kid walked like he'd been on a three day bender.

"It's dirty... I have to get clean... it's all gonna need cleaning, all of it... it's no good. It needs throwing out... I can't..."

Getting a jolt of whatever had gone through Dean, John managed to get up from his bed too and make his way over to the babbling boy without losing any vision or running out of breath. He stopped the constant swaying, and careful yet fast footsteps, by placing both his hands on Dean's shoulders and drawing him close.

"Sshh, Dean, it's fine, we'll clean it later okay? Just relax."

"It's dirty."

"It's fine," John replied simply, his tone marking the end of the discussion.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"But I-"

"It's fine Dean, I'll take care of it."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Dean nodded, then sniffled as he buried his face in John's neck, closing his eyes, knees finally giving out, his consciousness not long in following.

John could hardly believe that he was in the middle of a state-of-the-art hospital, with all the medications and expertise that anybody could ever want, and he wished that he was elsewhere – just him and Dean so that he could look after him and give him the care he needed that no medical facility could possibly give him. His own wheezing brought him back to reality, but John stiffened himself to give Dean the care and time he needed before he had to face whatever went on and it's consequences. Ignoring his own shaky arms, he lifted Dean's limp form, pulled him to the bed and managed to haul him up onto it. With nothing but the few supplies he found in his room, he cleaned his son's battered face up the best he could, only turning slightly green once when he straightened out Dean's slightly crocked nose, he thanked the lord above when his boy didn't stir once. Most of the injuries looked superficial, flesh wounds for the most part. He had a voice nagging at him to not take any chances, but another part of him was screaming 'Dean is broken enough, strange freaks stitching him back together, prodding poking at him, in a cold stale room all alone isn't going to help matters.'

As he stared down at the once again crumpled boy, John found himself torn, he had about a million things to do, no option about any of them.

He had to call Mary, she had to be freaking out, so would Sam, they had to have noticed Dean wasn't in bed, it was half four in the morning for goodness sake and Mary always checked on the boys, even Angus now before she went to bed herself. Yeah, they knew he was missing.

He had to call Steve, he owed his friend a heads up on some new danger in the town, natural or super, Steve needed to know.

He had to get himself out of this damn hole, patched up or not, no way he was sending Dean home like this and not be there for him, for the rest of his family, his patience with being the man down had officially worn out. Weakling Johnny Winchester was closing up shop.

And finally- he had to tear apart and kill the son of a bitch that had done this to his boy, before doing it all again, and several more times if necessary. And if it was already dead, he'd burn the suckers dead body then march into Hell's mouth and destroy it again.

While John's mind was determined, his body still had other ideas and exhaustion, a lovely side effect of his sickness, was making a reappearance. Carefully settling himself on the very edge of the small bed, wrapping a protective arm around his boy, he too fell into a deep sleep, his son wrapped safely in his arms.

_**SPN**_

Waking to a bright light shining through the room, John hissed and pulled his arm up to cover his eyes, memory flooding back when his arm didn't move - something, or rather someone, was laying on top of it- Dean. He had curled up in the night, protecting himself however he could and had cocooned himself under John's hold. Despite everything, the black bruises, the massive swell that was Dean's face, and the traces of blood and dirt he hadn't cleaned, John smiled.

"J-John?"

He frowned, twisting his head around as best he could without moving the one next to him.

"Mare? What are you doing here?" Wiping clear his bleary eyes, he focussed on the pale face of his wife, telling by how tense she was sitting that she was upset - damn she was close to hysterical.

"A nurse ah... found you two in the middle of the night, she saw Dean... the state of him, and called security who called the police... and when they heard the name Winchester, they called Steve who, uh, called us."

_Us?_ John felt an ice pick in his heart when he saw Sam, sleeping with his head on Dean's arm at the other side of the bed.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you're still sick, and I couldn't wake Dean, I didn't know... Sammy wouldn't stop crying, god he was so... he was yelling and you two still didn't wake up. You must have needed the rest." She was trying to be light hearted, she tried to smile past the tears down her face, she couldn't even fool herself though, let alone her husband.

With every tear, John had another sharp ice pick to add to his collection.

"What happened?" it was her turn for the questions.

"I honestly... I don't have a freakin' clue, I woke up and there he was, crying and all messed up. I tried to get him to talk but he couldn't get a word out that made any sense. He finally passed out and I cleaned him up and I guess I must've passed out too... damn it."

"There's two officers outside, been on guard duty all night, Steve's orders... but he said when he wakes up... they need to talk to Dean, he says he can keep the questions away until Dean's ready."

"Ready for what?"

At that moment, a doctor barged into the room followed by a very pissed off Officer, Brian Milo, Steve's right hand man, the one you went to if the big boss was unavailable.

"Hey, you haven't been cleared to come in. If you don't get out of this room right now I will arrest you on damn ignorance alone." He had the attitude of Steve as well.

"I understand your concerns with the case but my concern is with my patient."

"What case?"

"Johnny you're awake."

"Well, aren't we the observant one today," he snapped before going serious. "What case? What about when Dean's ready? What the hell is going on?"

"D-dad?" Sam was now awake, John felt the dizziness up a notch, and it was nothing to do with him being ill.

John turned to his youngest and almost gasped at the same darkness he had seen in Dean last night. "Sammy, you alright kiddo?" Primary concern in the room- his boys.

Sam shook his head and looked to Dean who was still out for the count - at least that was one less thing to handle for just a bit longer.

"Your temp is within normal range again, has been since yesterday, are you still experiencing shortness of breath? Pain in your chest?" The officious doctor bustled about totally oblivious to the glares he was getting from all corners.

"No, and no, now piss off, in case you haven't noticed we're a little busy, I don't give a flying fuck about my shortness of breath, just-" John ripped out his IV and stood from the bed as gently as he could. "Sammy, you alright with Dean here for a few minutes?"

Sam nodded and climbed onto the bed, taking his space. Usually he'd bitch about wanting to be included in the adult conversations, but today, he just didn't care, he had nothing left to take anything else in. He just wanted to sit and protect his brother for as long as he could.

John waved the doctor from the room and the second officer outside escorted him further down the hall when Brian gave him the nod.

"Okay, somebody please explain to me what the fuck is going on?" John demanded now they were alone in the hall way.

Mary was the one to speak first, "They found some... some bodies, Dean's bike near the... the scene. They think he... that h-he killed the man, the one that's been taking kids, either that or Dean was helping him and... God I just don't know how everything got so bad. I don't know what we've done... what he's done to deserve all this."

John wrapped his arms around her and pleaded for Brian to fill in the blanks and tell him the rest.

"We got a call in the middle of the night, someone found an abandoned bike on the side of the road, they went to check it out, see if anyone was hurt nearby, then they found a guy pinned to a tree, and a kid... close by, his stomach slashed up into ribbons. We called Steve, got to the scene, more dead bodies were found and when he saw the bike... let's just say there's not many pimped out in Led Zeppelin and AC/DC. Then the hospital called our station, who called Steve and... you know the rest. Look man, I'm really sorry about all of this but we really need to talk to your son, get his name cleared, before we move on with the case any further."

"Can we at least wait for him to wake up and get the story out of him first before you drag him to the station and interrogate him?"

Brian nodded, and let them go when they heard a commotion in the room behind them.

"Come on honey," John and Mary went back into the room to find the bed empty.

It seemed Dean was awake, vomiting into the toilet by the sounds of it with Sam behind him, promising things would be okay.

Making their way into the small cramped bathroom, Mary and John decided on keeping back, giving their boys some space while they could have it.

"It's alright Dean, I promise. You don't have to be upset. It's okay big brother, it's okay."

_**TBC...**_

_**Screw the chapter reviews, just tell me you guys are as happy as I am! If not, I'm always here to cheer you up! X **_


	21. And I will try, to fix you

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**And I will try, to fix you**

This day officially sucked; when he had thought the day before had been the worst in his life... boy he couldn't have been more wrong. First he woke up on some cruddy hospital bed and felt like he was dying, everything hurt, and he meant _everything_, even parts he didn't know he had. Cliché right?

Seconds later he was running to the bathroom, well, stumbling, but whatever. His knees hit the ground with a thud, then he did what you always do when reality caught up with you after getting beaten to hell, killing a demon, and then having someone die in your arms - he puked. He lost yesterdays breakfast and who knows what else in front of Sam of all people and then again when John and Mary came in hearing his oh so pleasant gagging. God, he was so sorry that the kid had to witness this, but at the same time he was so glad that he was just _there_ he wanted to cry when Mary led Sam out of the room.

Then a doctor was there, asking him all sorts of douche questions. Dean was sure his lips were moving, but he didn't know what he said, hopefully it was something close to 'leave me the fuck alone'. It apparently wasn't, as the douche bag stuck around, took him away into some creepy room with an even creepier curtain and then prodded and poked his face so much that he had to stop himself from giving the bastard his own stitches. It wasn't until he heard a strong voice order him to stop that he noticed Mary was by his side.

"He's had enough."

Half ignoring Mary's command, the guy pressed to a raw spot on his throat then carried on. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Dean shook his head, then hissed again when a stitch was threaded through the gash under his eye.

Once he was done with a couple of stitches in a tender as hell spot, Mary grabbed the man's arm before he could check any further and forced him to pull away from her son.

"I said he's had enough. You're going to give him something for pain before you touch him again."

"Mrs. Winchester, your son needs a thorough-"

"Later!" Mary interrupted the condescending lecture only to get a glare and shoulder shrug. That was it. Her patience snapped. Her husband was back in a hospital bed after he semi collapsed when they took Dean away, she guessed the adrenaline that had held him upright for the last few hours had worn off. She had her baby sobbing in silence next to John, saying he wanted to help, but she knew this was just too much for him right now so she told him to stay put. She had an almost catatonic eldest son beaten within an inch of his life - again - who had seen some horrific things in the last twenty four hours, too much for his mind to even try to deal with. And now- she had this jackass to deal with, well... no more.

"Get out, _now_," the venom in her voice and the rage in her eyes caused the doctor to take a step back before he did as he was told, handed Dean two white pills and then left them alone after grumbling about idiots who thought they knew more than he did and stomping out.

Dean heard one set of careful footsteps moving away from him, then two sets, he looked up, more in alarm than curiosity. A cop -one who looked familiar- was whispering something to Mary, she looked crushed and torn before she made her way over to him again.

Out of one shit mess and into another it was as she sat down next to him on the examining table and started on the tale of police and dead bodies and the grand finale- he was a suspect!

"Dean honey, you just need to tell the truth, okay? We'll always be here, no matter what, you just tell Steve or Brian here what happened, and then we can go home, okay? But not until you're ready, you can sit here as long as you want, baby."

Dean couldn't stop himself from shaking. He could feel a pleasant numbness start as the medication began working, but it didn't make him numb enough.

_**SPN**_

An hour waiting in the examination room with Mary, Dean's ass had long become one with the table, and the cop was looking increasingly impatient. An hour and half he gave Mary the nod.

"It was me... I killed him..."

Her heart thudded to her feet, and she shuddered. Dean would never hurt an innocent on purpose, but his head was in a scary place right now, probably had been for a while. She was afraid to hear just who 'him' was.

"I killed him... but it was too late for the kid... he died. I'm sorry." Although it was a relief 'him' was obviously the dead, murdering, psycho, Dean sounded so detached, it would have been more comforting for Mary if he had broken down in tears like John had said he had done the night before.

They sat still for a few more minutes, Dean's hand knotted with hers before Officer Milo stepped in and she was asked to leave the room so they could conduct the interview without any influence from her. Something about the potential for Dean to lie if the truth was something which may upset her... whatever.

Dean was too trapped in his own crumbling mind to panic about being alone with some strange cop. He did notice the guy was trying to look unthreatening though by taking a seat quite a few paces from where he was on the table; closer to the door than to him.

_Jeez does he think I'm gonna start foaming at the mouth?_

Brian took out his note pad that looked sort of pathetic if you asked Dean, but all humour, dark or otherwise was lost when he was handed a picture he couldn't quite look at, but couldn't quite take his eyes off either.

"Was this the man that attacked you?" he wasn't wasting any time then.

Officer Milo eyed his witness intently, alert for all nuances of speech and body language. The kid looked like hell, but there were just too many unanswered questions.

Dean nodded after taking yet another look at the picture, yes that was what the attacker looked like, but that wasn't him. That was the poor son of a bitch whose name would be plastered all over the papers and destined to be part of a 'serial killers of America' book for the rest of time. The poor son of a bitch who had been merely an innocent man jumped by a cloud of black smoke. The poor son of a bitch who had been made to do evil things with his own hands and having no power whatsoever to stop what was inside him from kidnapping, torturing and butchering teenage boys.

"And can you tell me exactly where you were when you and he crossed paths?"

"I was on my bike, near the woods."

"And what happened when he approached you?"

Slow, simple questions with an undertone of understanding and sympathy, trying to gain his trust, make him think he believed him, but in reality, he was really trying to catch him out, Dean knew the tricks. He could do what he usually did- be a smart ass and deflect everything, toss it back in the officer's face, but he just didn't care this time. He was tired, he hurt, and he just wanted to go home, he'd never wanted his family more than he did today. So, he played along the best he could, doing his best not to deny everything and run for the door.

"I fell, my wheel got caught on something in the road and I went over the handle bars. Then when I stood up the guy was there, offering me help."

"What did you do when he offered help?"

"I told him I was fine, I could handle it."

"And his reaction was...?"

"I don't know, he started to get closer, I thought he was just being helpful at first, but I still said no thanks. But... then he got this look in his eyes." _Yeah, they went black_. "Then he smiled. And that's when he started punching me and stuff."

"And what time was this?"

"Uh... I can't remember, it was dark though." He wasn't trying to act dumb. Seriously, he didn't have a damn clue what time it was when he left the house.

"Could you tell me what you were doing at that time of the night out, alone, in the middle of winter, especially with the recent warnings to stay indoors."

"I just wanted to take a ride, clear my head. I know it sounds stupid to go out when it's freezing and pitch black, but I never really thought about that. I guess I thought getting caught by that guy... wouldn't happen to me."

The officer looked sympathetic as he played the 'idiotic teenager, hard as nails, nothing happens to me' card. Milo shuffled his stool a little closer in such a discrete fashion, Dean almost missed it.

"What happened after he started to attack you?"

Dean looked down a little more at his sweating palms, it was times like this he wished he had some Sammy bangs to hide behind, maybe when he had enough balls to grow his hair longer and wouldn't hear his uncle's voice in his head telling him he looked like a pathetic girl.

"It's kind of a blur, it all happened so fast... he was hitting me."

The cop frowned when Dean sounded a little too okay with that.

"It didn't really bother me, I've been hit by jerks before," he explained.

"Who were these 'jerks'?"

_Oh, here we go, can't I get through one interview with some cop or doctor or anyone without having to talk about him?_

"My uncle... he used to slap me around a little." Dean's voice started to get rough, the officer took that as a sign to move on, the kid obviously not wanting to talk about that, and besides, it wasn't anything to do with the case at hand.

"So the man was hitting you and...?" he trailed off waiting for Dean to continue.

"I was on the ground... he'd dragged me into the trees... I think he broke my nose or something 'cause I heard a crunch. He started... c-c," Dean cleared his throat "...calling me pathetic... it's what my uncle used to do," no wonder he couldn't go a day without Ron, he was the one that kept bringing him up. "It... I-... something snapped, he was taunting me and I just snapped... I started to get up and I kicked him... I think he fell backwards or... I don't know... and then he was coughing up blood, I saw he had a tree branch sticking out of him and..."

Water welled in his eyes as he remembered the life going out in the guys eyes, the innocent guy he couldn't save. A cold bottle was thrust into his hand and it took him a moment to realise it was water, he managed to swallow a good half of it down along with his building tears.

Milo was now just millimetres away from Dean, his hand obviously itching to pat his leg in consolation. "It's alright son, take your time."

"I'm not your damn son!" Dean growled, unable to help himself. God he hated people calling him that, people that knew jack about him, especially men!

The officer held his hands up and backed up a little, signalling he meant no harm, so Dean forced himself to calm down and release the death grip he now had on the water bottle.

"I'm sorry, carry on... the guy died on the tree..."

"I-I passed out. When I woke up, it was still dark, I heard someone, a voice... sounded like he was in pain. I crawled around 'til I found him... he was... bleeding and... the smell... he was butchered... just blood and... I could see his insides and..." there a trash can under his chin as he lost the water that had barely made it to his stomach. He could hear wheezing in his ears, it took him a while to realize it was him and he was still babbling about blood and the smell.

"I think we need to get a doctor in here or someone, this kid needs some help."

The cop was now talking to someone else, Dean didn't know who, he barely registered Brian saying he could stop, carry on another time when he was feeling better. Jesus, if he didn't get it out today he never would.

"H-he said he didn't wanna die there so I-I couldn't just leave him... got him up... we started walking, tried to joke with him, to keep him awake just a little longer but then... he just went limp and... I couldn't feel a pulse or... he just died... I tried to help him, I swear, I tried, please." The cop was long forgotten, Dean's vision started to tunnel in and out before he saw his family, his whole family, Sam, Mom, John, Dad, Mary, Ron... everyone. "Please you have to believe me, please, I need help, please, you can't leave me, I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry I didn't mean to."

Things started to go black again but he clung on, maybe this was real, maybe it was fake, he didn't care. He liked it here, he refused to go to hell. He wasn't going, this was real, he wasn't leaving Sammy, he wasn't leaving John and he wasn't leaving Mary. This was real, this had to be real!

He felt something sticky on his hands, he looked down and all he saw was red, he was covered in the kid's blood, innocent blood.

_Dirty, so dirty, god I couldn't stop it, it's all dirty, I'm sorry._

"Sshh, sshh Dean, come on, come back to us, it's okay, I'm here, sshh, look at me, Dean _look at me_. You're right here, with me, this is real Dean, it's all real, it's gonna be alright, sshh, sssh."

He felt someone bring his vision back with their small hands on his head.

"I can't... let me go, it all needs to be cleaned... you can't touch me, I'm dirty... always dirty... It's everywhere... so much blood, it's all... I can't... please..."

"There's nothing there Dean, it's all okay, you're not dirty, it's all okay, I swear to you."

"But it's-"

"No, there's nothing there, Dean. You're alright baby."

He couldn't help the cry from his lips when Mary wrapped her arms around him putting agonizing pressure on his back. Shit he forgot how much that hurt.

"Ssshhh, ssshh. I know, I know, sshhh."

_**SPN**_

Mary had paced the hall, god she hated having to leave her broken son with a bunch of strangers, especially now. She hated leaving Sam and John together so she could follow Dean, never mind this.

She was so proud of Dean for speaking up and saying he was ready, he could have sat on the hospital bench until it was dark, he could have sat there for days if he wanted to, but he didn't. He sat still for a couple of hours and then announced he was good, and then she was whisked from the room. She wanted to check on John and Sam but if she lost sight of where Dean was, she wouldn't have a clue where he would end up. She just couldn't bring herself to walk beyond the hall way outside the room her eldest was almost trapped in.

Occasionally people asked her if she wanted a drink, she didn't even spare them a glance. If she did, she was afraid she would tip the cup over their damn heads because they were talking like tea and coffee were cures for everything from a broken heart to freakin' cancer! Imbeciles.

Her world stopped for about the hundredth time that day when she heard her son cry out inside the room. Enough was enough, Dean needed her.

She barged into the room not able to stand it any longer. What she saw broke her heart. Dean, crying, sobbing, rocking himself in the far corner of the room, banging his head against the back wall, mumbling things like he was dirty, and how sorry he was and how he wanted so badly for this life to be real because he didn't want to go to hell.

"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have left him alone."

Officer Milo heard her and backed away from Dean knowing he was neither wanted nor useful at this time.

"Dirty, so dirty... god I couldn't stop it... it's all dirty... I'm sorry."

"Sshh, sshh, Dean, come on, come back to us, it's okay, I'm here, sshh, look at me, Dean _look at me_. You're right here, with me, this is real Dean, it's all real, it's gonna be alright, sshh, sssh."

She thought of doing the smart thing, the thing that would be better for Dean, the thing where you crouch down and inch closer until the scared one came to you, seeking out comfort. But Dean was hurting himself, Mary didn't have time to be smart. She pulled her son away from the wall and cushioned his head with her hand as he continued to rock backwards.

"I can't... let me go... it all needs to be cleaned... you can't touch me... I'm dirty, always dirty... It's everywhere... so much blood... it's all... I can't... please."

Dean was scratching frantically as his battered hands like he was trying to peel away the invisible dirt. Mary tugged Dean just a little closer to her and grabbed his hands and held them firmly down to stop the scratching.

"There's nothing there Dean, it's all okay, you're not dirty, it's all okay, I swear to you."

"But it's-"

"No, there's nothing there, Dean. You're alright."

She heard a louder cry when he finally pulled her boy to her chest and held him tight, rocking in a more soothing manner than Dean had been.

"Ssshhh, ssshh. I know, I know, sshhh."

Mary went to feel for a fever when she noted Dean's shivering had upped, even though he was now being held and his breathing was slightly better.

_Well shit._ John had apparently left the jacket that was once his on Dean yesterday because even he said it got pretty chilly at night in the hospital. But now Dean was clammy and he was burning hot to the touch. This was definitely more heat that a panic attack would bring on.

She tugged the leather free from Dean's shoulders and guided his arms out one by one. She felt a gag of her own when she caught sight of the wounds, the brutal butchered mutilations on her son everyone missed. Dean said he wasn't hurt anywhere else but how in the hell did they miss all that? Blood, that's all Dean's spine consisted of right now, dried, crusted, rusty blood. Her mind couldn't process any more wounds, so much so she didn't even notice the stringy red bandages on Dean's arm.

Dean needed a doctor - now!

"Hey! Someone call a doctor! We need some help in here!" Brian had beaten her to it.

Dean continued to whimper, it reminded Mary of a wounded, fragile, fearful animal trapped- it just about narrowed Dean down to a tee.

Okay, so Dean had been fearful in the past, and he'd been wounded so many times it made Mary's blood boil. But fragile... that wasn't something you'd say or think about when talking about a strapping six foot sixteen year old who knew how to handle a .45 better than a knife and fork, but that was exactly what Dean was at this moment in time, fragile. Not to mention twisted, broken, and some would say possibly beyond saving at this point. But they had sworn never to give up on Dean, not ever, so no matter how endless, how futile all of this seemed, no way they were letting Dean go.

They'd make everything okay, her and John... they'd fix this, together.

_**TBC...**_


	22. Would you lie with me and just forget

**1 hour to go! Are you guys all ready for him? I hope all you guys get what you asked for from Santa, and I hope you all have a wonderful day with your families or whatever your plans are for tomorrow! Lots of love x Merry Crimbo and a Happy New year! Becka Looby x **

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Would you lie with me and just forget the world?**

The first time Dean woke up he was still in Mary's arms, it felt okay here... hell, dare he tempt fate, it felt better than okay... it was nice in fact, safe, warm- so he closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

...

The second time he woke up he was being moved, big guy, short hair – cop? - under one half of him and someone else with big beefy arms under the other, he guessed it was onto a bed because he was strangely horizontal. It probably hurt, he couldn't tell, things were still too fuzzy, but he still felt the warmth, so that meant Mary was still close, and he was still safe.

...

The third time waking wasn't so pleasant, too many people around, too many noises, too many lights, and too many fucking needles in his... shit were they jabbing him in the foot?

He was suffocating and the warmth was now gone, not even a faint shadow of the bliss was left, so he just gave in to the abyss.

...

The fourth time he woke up not having even realized he had drifted off again. Fuck he hated when that happened- the jolt of awaking hits you followed by confusion and panic, and once they wore off all you're left with is the overwhelming frustration that you are so dense you didn't even comprehend the lights had gone out until they turned back on. And doesn't that just piss you the hell off until once again you're unconscious?

...

The fifth time had to be the worst to date - he was on his front, maybe he had been all this time, who knew, but he had only realized it now which meant this was a new thing. He was flat on his belly and his face was in a hole. When he shifted his head to the right just a little, he immediately pictured his body laying on one of those ridiculous masseuse tables. Someone had obviously seen his movements because now he had a hand on the back of his head, it was just a light touch, but it wasn't comforting, it was meant for restraint. Stupid people, didn't they realise that his back was on fire and he had to put it the fuck out?

"Stay still honey, we'll have you patched up in no time." The voice wasn't soothing either, not like Sammy's or Mary's, not even like John's, this voice was sharp and hit his ear canals like broken glass. Where was he, what the hell was going on? He just wanted to go home.

Although he was more aware this time, it didn't make it any less irritating when his mind gave up and sank back into darkness.

...

Now the sixth, oh this one was definitely the worst. At first it wasn't much different from the fifth with the painful table and it reminded him a lot of his third with the foot jabs and the cold chill that ran up his leg from something being pumped into him. But when he heard arrogant voices passing around words like 'plastic surgery' 'self harming' and 'psychiatric evaluation' it didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that number six sucked and he would give anything to go back to that number five he was so bitchy about not long ago.

He tried to move but didn't get very far, it wasn't whoever it was holding him down, and it wasn't the stupid hand on his head from someone with the longest fucking nails in creation digging into his skull. It was that he couldn't separate out his arms and legs from the bolts of pain firing all along them whenever he so much as twitched.

Deep gouges of pain, new and yet familiar, suddenly ripped through him as metal forced itself through the tender, damaged skin of his back. _Nononono not again!_ He fought against the force pushing him down, holding him, stopping him... He heard yelling and howling, he couldn't tell what was his, but he couldn't let it happen, wouldn't let it happen, not again_. Nononono he was gone, Ron was dead he couldn't..._ _he was sorrysorrysorry, he'd do better, be a good boy, just don't..._ Next thing he knew he could track something icy moving into his veins, creeping up relentlessly to flow over his brain.

He closed his eyes willingly that time - he was so over six.

...

The seventh was an improvement... no, tenth... or maybe the thirteenth, hell, the thirtieth, he didn't care, he'd lost count, but one thing had registered between then and now- hospital, he knew that now - hospital. Maybe it was the drugs they had finally given him, he now had a sense of floating, and his back didn't hurt as much, or maybe that was just because the tweezers from hell were gone and the nails in his brain too. Or maybe it was that he wasn't alone. It wasn't so much something that he could hear, or, god knows, feel, but it was... there. Whatever, wake him when the real drugs started to kick in.

...

The next time he wakes up it takes him a while. The room is quieter, most of the lights are out, and even though he was still on his front, the ridiculous table was gone, his head finally cushioned on a pillow, peace at last. He's in a different room now, because what examining room has a bed this soft?

With his head squashed down and one eye wedged in the pillow he can barely make out the bright square of window. Huh, it was daytime again. When he feels his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth he figures he's been out a while since number whatever he was up to. He tries to move his arm but a heavy, warm weight stops him and he wants to know what it is, but the thought leaves his head so quickly it's like it was never there.

He doesn't want to, but the rhythmic bleeps from a machine that's too far away lulls him back to sleep once again.

...

The next _next_ time he's awake -though he's still pretty sure his eyes are closed- his throat is like sandpaper and that stiff, dry tongue is like leather now. He's also a little more on his back and really doesn't appreciate the white hot pain in that area rearing its ugly head again.

"Take a drink, sweetie."

He feels something between his lips, he takes a breath in and is surprised when his mouth fills with water, _oh, it's a straw then._ The water feels good, even just sitting in the pit of his mouth it makes his tongue a little better, but downside, he's apparently forgotten how to swallow. He coughs and a mixture of now aired water and saliva washes down his chin.

It's quickly mopped up, and he's back to dreamland shortly after.

...

The occasion after that, thanks to that awesome medicated dream he'd just had, his arms are flailing about before his eyes are even open. His throat feels raw, burning, he's pretty sure he's still yelling though. It's just a short word on repeat, sometimes it's longer, but mostly it's just a string of _'Sam!Sam!Sam!'_

People are trying to calm him down, strange people. At first they try to coach him to shut his large mouth, but it doesn't work. Then they try restraints, that doesn't do much either but up the screams. Last resort, meds, more of the typical crap he didn't want. Were they stupid? Could they not hear him? He wanted Sam. That's all, that simple.

He feels his screams die down, and the meds flood in. And still no Sammy. He could feel the tears slip out as the darkness welcomes him again.

_**...**_

The next and final time he's awake, he knows it's different, he's on his back completely for one. But the biggest difference is he feels more coherent. The pain meds clogged some of his brain waves, but blissfully numbed his whole body, he just wished he could say the same for the flood of memories and emotions coming back to him, all of them bad. Someone needed to invent stronger anaesthesia for the heart.

Mindful not to change his breathing pattern, Dean soaked up the comfort from the thumb on the top of his hand rubbing in soothing circles, gently coaxing him back to the land of the living.

His eyes were open to mere slits, just enough to have a look at his surroundings, not enough for people close by to notice any alterations in his dozing expression, or so he thought-

"Dean?"

His eyes reluctantly open all the way, he sees Sam next to his bed, only Sam, no doctors or nurses, no Mary and no John. He really couldn't care less he had only one visitor, he's missed this kid.

"Dean, are you awake this time?"

This time? He must have had open lids before then when Sammy was around and not noticed, probably one of those 'the lights are on by no one's home' deals. He hopes it was after his whole screaming fiasco. He knew Sam, and that would really have freaked the kid out, he was never much for blood curling horror flicks.

"Dean? Can you hear me? Are you thirsty? Do you want a drink? Does it hurt? Do I need to get a nurse?"

Dean smirked at the rush of questions, mentally anyway, his face was officially motionless, what the hell was in those drugs?

"Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean knew it wouldn't be long before that question arose, but the expectance didn't help. He knows he's close to crying now.

"De?"

... Alas, Dean's eyes burned with hot tears as he heard the sob in his little brother's voice.

He couldn't answer, even if his throat worked the way he wanted it to right now, he wouldn't know what to say, so he settled for silent communication instead as he squeezed the hand around his, the signal and look in his eyes begging Sam not to leave him.

"I'm here Dean, not goin' anywhere." Sam squeezed back, and chose to ignore the tears that ran down his big brother's face.

_**SPN**_

It had been three days, three whole days and Dean had yet to stop crying. After waking up for real (for the most part) Dean had cried through the rest of the night. He cried the next day through breakfast. He cried through lunch. He cried through his bandages being changed. He cried through the gentle questions from the shrinks and cried through his medically induced naps - never acknowledging anyone that wasn't Sam.

At first they were all freaked he was in some serious pain or something, but when he didn't stop after several rounds of meds, they figured the pain had to be mental, not physical. But that pain had to be agony because Dean doesn't cry, not like this, not even when his parents mourning day came around did he cry like this.

The psychiatrist didn't offer much help, she just said sometimes people hold something in for so long, when they let it go they can't stop. Another theory of hers was Dean had regressed into his own mind for safety because the world was just too hard for him now. But she said the tears were a good sign and meant he was still with them, partially, and intended on coming back when he felt safe again. All they had to do was ride it out, and if it did go on for too long, then she would take action. Sam hated the sound of that so he warned the bitch if she did anything to his brother without telling him or his parents, there would be hell to pay... or something like that anyway, Dean was a little too busy at the time to take notes.

He was given water constantly that he obediently drank through the chewed up straw and the fluids through his IV were increased. His physician said he wasn't sure if the excess liquids were helping or just feeding Dean's tears, but it was apparently better than being dehydrated.

Dean got a little snotty sometimes, when he'd forget to breathe and the hiccups would come too often making it even harder to breathe, but there was always a comforting hand on his arm to settle him soon enough and wipe the yuck from his top lip. On that note, as promised, he was never alone, when the kid had to eat or take a break Mary was there, but mostly it was Sam. The kid had slept in the hospital the last three nights by Dean's side, climbing on the bed careful of his brothers injuries when the clock hit eleven, dropping off with a tissue box in his lap just in case. If what he overheard was right, he'd freaked out whenever his brother left, and he would have blushed if he could at Sam being like his own personal kid-sized teddy bear.

Dean had to admit, if he could get the damn tears to stop and switch his mind and body on again, he'd give Sam the biggest freakin' hug - he'd sat there for three days, not let his mask slip once so even a stray tear could slip out of his own. He'd put music on, read some lame car magazine Dean liked. He talked about John getting better pretty quickly and soon he should be clear to be discharged and visit him. He'd chat and joke like Dean was replying, like he wasn't sitting there in a puddle of his own sissy tears every second of the day. Dean wished he was as strong as his little brother because, damn, that kid had balls.

_**SPN**_

The fifth day, or night rather, something woke Sam at around two in the morning. He's not surprised anymore, sometimes it's a nurse coming to check on them, or their mom dropping in so he can go outside in the hall for an hour to cry without Dean having to watch. But most of the time it's his big brother waking from some horrific nightmare and in need of a few dozen tissues Sam still had in the centre of his lap.

But when he looked around, there was no nurse, no mom, and worst of all, no Dean.

"Dean!" he cried, unable to stop himself to think rationally where he could have gone. Dean had barely gotten out of bed in five days, he had hardly moved in five days let alone left the bed, only did when people told him to. Where the hell was he?

Sam stood from the bed and sprinted to the small bathroom attached to Dean's cubicle when he saw the orange glow under the door. He didn't bother knocking, he'd just about seen it all these last few days - literally.

"Dean?" he blurted out once again when he swung the door open.

He felt the rush of relief when his brother was safe and sound staring at the mirror in front of the sink, still with the tears soaking into his hospital scrubs, he needed to tell mom to get some of Dean's own t-shirts and sweats because his brother was really going to hate coming around to see himself in powder blue.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked, tugging lightly on his bandaged arm.

Dean turned to look at him... he was actually looking at him! Eye to eye contact, this was new, the psychiatrist had said eye contact was good, it meant acknowledgment to real life and the people around you. Sam didn't falter and followed Dean's gaze as it turned back to the mirror and they both stared at the soaked black and blue face together.

"Sammy?"

Sam swallowed his dire need to scream, cheer, laugh, cry... _anything,_ to keep calm for the one before him. "Yeah, Dean?"

"Who am I?"

Dean didn't have amnesia, he wasn't whacko, and he was far from stupid. Sam knew what Dean was asking, he heard the plea loud and clear. Dean was lost, hurting, and broken, and he wanted to know who he was, what his purpose in the world was, why he had to carry on and why he was still here. So Sam had to put it as simply as simply as he could.

Who was Dean? "You're my big brother."

Dean moved his eyes to look at Sam behind him in the mirror. The young, vulnerable, sweet, trusting, courageous kid who needed someone to look out for him, someone to look up to, someone to depend on through anything... someone who needed his big brother. "Okay."

"Okay," Sam confirmed with a teary smile.

He handed Dean a few tissues to wipe his face and guided him back to bed where he didn't cry himself to sleep.

_**TBC...**_


	23. By and By

_**Sorry gang! Man, these days... I wish I could say I'm being lazy but... I can't! I just legitimately forget I have all these things to do, seriously! I got so caught up in my recent Zooey Deschanel obsession (I want her hair so bad!) I totally forgot to do my homework, the work I was too lazy to do properly in class, my revision notes, actually revising... and worst of all... I forgot I had two freakin' stories on the go! No joke, there wasn't even a 'wow I'm have such a writer's block!' It just didn't even enter my mind until last night that I had all this fanfic I should be doing! I'm so bad! I'm not crazy... I swear I'm not! Okay maybe I am a little but... eekk... **_

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**By and By**

The next day Sam was pleasantly surprised to wake to a dry eyed brother, but one thing bothered him - the more than obvious pain lines throughout Dean's whole body.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Sam asked, his voice strained.

Dean shrugged as best he could. "You need sleep."

"Yeah, but you need pain meds."

Sam pressed the call button and shortly after, a nurse arrived, asked them what was wrong and then pumped Dean with enough of the good stuff to knock him back to sleep.

Overall, Dean seemed to be doing better, he was sleeping, though pain was setting in, but this was definitely an improvement. Sam just wished he could say the same for himself. He really had tried to be strong, tried to be the mature young man he strived for people to see him as, but every time his mom came in to relieve him for what Dean thought was a lunch break, Sam would step out into the hall and sob.

Today his mom had brought with her some of Dean's things from home, and more than a few directly from the mall, sweats, clean t-shirts, a couple of hoodies and jeans if he really felt up to getting out of bed. So far Dean had just been living with hospital scrubs and his favourite leather jacket but Mary thought enough was enough, Dean would want to change and maybe it would help if Dean could recognise himself a little more.

But in the midst of all the unpacking and the tale of his mom fighting the Christmas crowds and some crazy guy for the last AC/DC hoodie, Dean had lethargically blinked awake and Sam almost slipped up. Usually he'd just take the money his mom offered for the vending machines and leave the room before the tears had a chance to build. But today it had been too many minutes between his mom arriving and the money being handed to him so that a single tear had managed to slip out too early.

Still not paying much attention to anything besides his brother, Dean got increasingly worried at Sam's squinching face and the glimmering track from a too bright eye.

"I-I'm sorry," Sam managed to choke out before turning around, Dean didn't need to see him blubbering like a baby. Ignoring his brother's soft calls, he left the room and hoped his mom would stay with Dean, only his dad so far knew about his sob fests, then again, what his dad knew, his mom knew so... yeah.

As usual, he left for his dad's room which was at the other side of the hospital but he made it there in record time today.

"Heya Sammy," by now dad didn't say anything about his being upset, it was just better to hug his boy and wait for the tears to stop before sending him back to his brother. Talking about it, or rather asking Sam about it, never got him far, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Sam ran straight into his father's awaiting arms and spilled all his anger, fear, worry and frustration in the only way he knew how – he cried his little heart out. He didn't know why he was so upset today, Dean was doing better, his dad was doing better, things were starting to get brighter again.

"How's Dean?" John asked knowing a steady stream of questions was usually enough to settle Sam.

"B-better."

"Good, that's good, how's your mom? She still busy saving the world?"

Sam snorted, nodded, then hiccupped again, and all were muffled by his dad's chest.

"Angus still liking it at Steve's?"

Sam nodded, as far as he knew anyway. He wished they would let dogs in the hospital 'cause he knew Dean would like it. He'd asked Steve and used his best methods of persuasion – Dean would have been proud – but Steve was apparently immune.

"And how are you doing?"

Sam shrugged, it was a step up from yesterday at least.

"Hey, wanna hear some good news?"

Sam nodded, did he!

"Looks like I'll be getting out tomorrow. I'll be a free man." At that news, Sam hugged his dad tighter and didn't ease off until he felt like he was about to snap his big man's ribs. "We're all doing okay kiddo," John promised him, smiling when Sam closed his eyes. John hoped even with the awkward position his son was in, draped over his bed, wrapped in his arms- that he could feel safe enough here to fall to sleep, god knows the boy needed it.

They were both startled when Mary walked into the room looking upset herself.

"Sammy, baby you okay?"

Sam nodded, then lifted his head to meet his mothers eyes, his eyes apologetic for the raw emotion still etched onto his face.

She smiled, her eyes sad as she came around the bed to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, alarmed all of a sudden, cold deep panic building.

"He's back at the room, he made me come to check on you, wouldn't take no for an answer." Not that she ever said no to going to check if her baby was okay.

"You can't leave him alone!" Sam shouted leaping from his parent's arms and sprinting from the room, almost coming face first into a door when he reached his brother. "Dean! Dean!" he yelled while yanking the door open and rushing to the empty bed. "Dean!" fresh tears running down his face, he didn't know why, but something was very wrong, so wrong -his emotions knew before he did. A flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye from a figure huddled on the bathroom floor.

"No... Dean," he whispered, his hand over his mouth in horror. "De..." There was such a huge part of Sam that thought the man that attacked Dean, had cut those slashes on his arms. Even when the doctors said some of the cuts were months old. Even when Steve was by his dad's bed yesterday all upset saying how sorry he was for not helping Dean more, for believing the kid was okay enough to...

Sam still believed something else was to blame, not Dean... this wasn't Dean, he promised, years ago he promised that wasn't him. Sam still couldn't one hundred percent believe it even as he stared down at the blood seeping from his brother's arms. He didn't want to believe this was what they'd come to.

"Dean... why..?"

Dean didn't reply, he knew Sam was watching him as he tried uselessly to hide his pocket knife in his hand.

"Lock the fucking door!"

Sam was frozen, he couldn't lock the door, people needed to get in, his mom needed to get in, doctors needed to get in to help him.

"NOW!" Dean barked, harsh voice suddenly switching to a plea, "Please Sam..." Sam had no choice but to do as he was ordered before Dean hurt himself any more.

"Dean please..."

"'M sorry... deserve pain." Blood smeared the thin hospital scrubs as Dean ground his hands against the dripping cuts, looking everywhere but at his brother. Whether to stop the bleeding or just cause more pain, Sam wasn't sure if Dean even knew.

"No you don't."

"I deserve to bleed for what I've done!" Emotions of self-loathing, guilt, anger and many others Sam couldn't identify warred for residence on his brother's face. He would give anything for them to go away... for everything to be like it was before. He wanted his Dean back, not this mess, this wreck that he barely even recognised.

As he watched his brother fumble with the blood slicked blade, edges scything way too close to tortured skin, something in Sam snapped, the tears were put on pause and he forced his voice to work for just a little longer.

"Dean give me the knife," he ordered, voice shaking but with no room for compromise.

"No," Dean's voice was deep and hoarse, his eyes finally lifting to Sam's.

"Dean give it to me." Sam inched cautiously closer with his hand held out.

"N-no, stay back," Sam wasn't sure if the stay back was for his protection, or just because Dean wanted to be alone to be able to... no, Dean wasn't going to kill himself, he wouldn't.

"Dean, it's okay, just give it to me."

"No," Dean crept further back on the floor until his back hit the cold porcelain tile of the wall, blood spatters leaving a trail.

If ever Sam had needed divine intervention, now was it.

**TBC...**

_**I hope you all can forgive me, I promise I'll remember from now on!**_


	24. Fall Back into You

**Please read! **

**Okay guys, I have concluded my typical method is not working these days. Usually I like to be one or two chapters ahead of the posts on here so I always have something to fall back on and hand to you guys should I ever lose my mind. Well, mind has gone, it's been about two months now since I've actually wrote a chapter in its entirety on this story and on my mute Sam story. I thought I would get it back but it's just not happening so, maybe this new panic I have now of having nothing left in my 'to post' file will kick me into writing mode. Here's to hoping! **

**I do have to let you guys in on a secret though, I haven't been completely lazy and useless. I have been writing, just not on my two WIP's. I've been working on a new story idea I got last year and I think it's going well so far. I haven't had much inspiration for anything besides it so while I do I might as well crack on with that right? I hope I'm right lol. I vowed to myself I wouldn't start posting though until at least one of my incomplete stories is finished. Oh and reading Chimera by Rob Thurman, amazing book! I highly recommend it! Lots of brotherly love and action! **

_**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**_

**Fall Back into You**

His mind blank with fear and some other things he didn't even know the name of, Sam lunged forward and somehow twisted Dean's slick red hands into letting go of the knife. He didn't even care when he felt the blade knick him on his palm.

"Give me that or I will end you!"

"No, you won't, you would never hurt me, I know you."

"You don't know shit, I will tear you apart!" Dean's weeping hands swung out to the mirror, shattering it into as many cracked pieces as his life was right now. He picked up a shard from the sink and found his anger soon ran out and the world started to spin. Black spots danced behind his eyes and sent him sinking down the wall and slumping onto the floor. The only power he had left going to his right hand as he tightened it around the glass dagger.

As he watched the scene, covering his eyes when flakes of glass splintered the air, digging themselves into his arm, Sam had no choice but to get his brother help - whether he wanted it or not. Sam pulled on the emergency cord that hung beside the light switch, clicked the lock off the door and stood back as his mom charged in, he wasn't even a little surprised when his dad was right behind her, pushing past so he could get to Dean first. His strength amazed Sam when he didn't even flinch at the glass on the floor digging into his legs as he slammed his knees down to get close to his sons.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" John yelled only seeing both his boys covered in blood, Sam in hysterics and Dean halfway to unconsciousness on the floor with a lethal slice of mirror in his hand. "Jesus Christ Dean!" his prying of the glass only led to more of Dean's blood seeping out, so he stopped and worked on stopping the dangerous bleeding from Dean's arms. "You stupid brainless shit!"

"John, yelling isn't going to help," Mary, checking on her youngest, tried not to break down herself, at least not yet anyway.

"The hell it isn't! It's the only way he fucking seems to listen when it comes to the big shit like this! For fuck sake Dean, I thought you'd come to us before doing this. I thought we taught you to ask for help."

Dean sobbed, pulling from the hands tightening around his cuts, hating the tears on John's face and the scratches in the man's voice.

"Why?" John barked.

"Y-ou t-taught me to a-ask-kk for h-help when I des-served it... I don't f-fuckin' deserve it dad, I don't deserve any of –you."

He did this, all of this, all this pain and anger and misery, this was all his doing. He should just end it, like a man, accept his fate, accept he was just nothing but a black stain on the world.

"Yes you do, Dean, you do."

Dean turned away, he wasn't listening to more lies, he was done.

"Dean, look at me," John demanded, taking one hand off the dripping cuts to hold Dean's chin firmly so they were eye to eye, the blood from his palm smearing Dean's face. "You look at me!" the man screamed when Dean did nothing but pull away, his hand and the razor-sharp glass getting closer and closer to the arteries in his wrist. John doing his best to keep the distance between them but it was hard, too damn slippy because of the slow constant flow of blood.

"P-please."

"No, if you're doing this, then you look into my eyes while you kill yourself."

"No!" Dean was not going to do this in front of them, in front of Sam.

"Mary don't!" John bellowed, hearing her footsteps and Sam's as she tried to lead him from the room while hospital staff tried to push through. "Stay, everyone stays."

"Fuck off!"

Without even having to take his eyes off Dean and turn around to face the others, everyone knew not to move, the doctor and his army of orderlies barely even breathed as the tension in the room froze them all.

"If you really feel like this is the only way, then you shouldn't give a crap who your audience is. You shouldn't care for fuck if Sammy, your damn _brother__,_ watches the light go out in your eyes."

He heard Sam choke another sob. Dean knew John was serious, if he wanted to kill himself, John was going to make Sam and Mary watch, he never doubted for a second the man was capable of it. Never. With a hollow snarl he dropped the glass; it fell with a piercing clink to the floor.

"Get offa me!" Dean screamed. He might have stowed the killing himself for now, but he wasn't going to let them take him back, he fought his manacles, John only tightened them.

"No damn way, son! No damn way, I let go of you now, and I've lost you for good." He took his rough hand from Dean's chin to cup his cheek. "I let go, I might as well have slit your wrists myself. You are not doing this anymore, I won't let you. This stops now, ya hear me? Now."

Dean's slick limbs slipped through John's fingers finally, he crawled back into the corner and wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to make himself so small he might disappear. He felt a hand on the back of his head and he tucked that in too, close to his kneecaps.

"Son..." John's voice was softer, more understand, more sorrowful than he'd ever heard in his life. "I'm your father, and I refuse to let your parents down. I swear I'm gonna fix it Dean, I'm gonna fix you, we all are. Sh, it's okay, it's okay, ssh Tiger."

Warm arms wrapped around him, and a kiss landed in his hair as John's murmurs soothed him.

"I can't d-doo-oo this any-mo-re," Dean hiccupped, didn't he deserve some peace? "'s'too hard."

"Yes you can, we'll be there every step of the way, I promise you, you're not alone Dean, not anymore, you're not alone... but you gotta give us something too, just remember that."

As Dean finally stilled, John motioned for the doctor to make his entrance and held him as his arms were untangled and carefully wrapped in temporary gauze. As he sat there, glass in his legs and something even more painful in his arms, John took a look at his family, all covered in one person's blood or another, and that had to stop, now.

"You guys go get fixed up, I got him."

"John... what about the surgery? They said if they don't do it within the next day or two... John," she croaked, her hand going out for her husband to catch it.

Sam looked between his parents, what surgery?

John just thought for a second, holding his wife's extended hand, before announcing, "Sign the papers, we're doing this. Today."

As the orderlies prepared to get Dean from the ground, John tightened his hold on his son once more, but also hated that he had to let go of his wife to do so.

"Dean?"

Dean's frightened eyes sought out John.

"We're ridding you of those scars once and for all, today is the start alright? No more scars, no more guilt, no more pain."

"Wha...?" was the only thing he managed to get out before his throat closed up again.

"Your back, it's pretty messed up kid... so this corrective surgery... it's now or never Dean, what do you say?" John gave his boy a wink, ignoring the tear that fell from his lid as he did so.

"They'll be gone?" he had always wanted it, but never felt like he could have it.

"They'll be gone," John confirmed with a strong nod.

Dean nodded shortly after, it was a hesitated scared nod, but a nod nonetheless.

John smiled proudly, and tried not to think of what could have happened if Sam hadn't found Dean when he did. What they could be running into at this moment in time if they were a few second too late. Dean's wasn't fine, none of them were fine, but they would be, _they would be._

_**SPN**_

It was dark and that was just fine with Dean, that it was because his eyes were closed and he just wanted to pretend he wasn't there – that was fine too. They were talking, always talking. First the shrink who wanted to discuss his feelings and then the docs who wanted to discuss who the hell knows what, but he didn't want to talk, so now they talked around him and you know, that was also fine with Dean.

"The earliest we can do it is tomorrow, today would be best but... this latest incident has caused a setback in the time schedule."

_Fuck off._ If Dean could feel his arms, he'd lift them and give that jerk a big ol' salute right now.

"Well, if you damned people were doing your jobs properly, there wouldn't have been an incident in the first place. If I had the time, and I didn't have my family to put back together, believe me, this hospital would be in the ground right now."

_You tell 'em dad..._

"Where did he even get a knife in the first place?"

_Sorry Mom, didn't mean to freak you out..._

"Why wasn't anyone watching him closer is what I'd like to know. I thought this was the specialist ward for this type of thing, kids like my son, to stop him from being able to do this kind of thing to himself. He could have died today, do you understand? Dead! Gone! Rotting in the ground!"

Dean jumped even in his half conscious state when knuckles hit the false wall.

"Sir, I understand, and we could not be more sorry-"

"Try, I don't wanna hear it, I don't give a flying fuck about what rehearsed apology you've got stored right now, just shut up and take care of my son like you're supposed to."

More time passed, Dean knew he was in and out because that's all his vision and his hearing seemed to do, one second he was in a tunnel, and then he could hear loud a clear. Even in deep sleep though, he never once didn't feel the hand squeezing tight in his.

"We check all belongings for things like this though, everything, we request parents only bring in soft safe things, not even belts are allowed, nothing they could use to harm themselves. I don't understand where he could have gotten such a sharp object..."

Dean heard a short gasp followed by a choke. "Oh god..."

John cut his wife off before she could finish. "Okay, everyone out, leave my family in peace, go, now."

Feet shuffling, a door closing.

"Mary? What is it?"

"The- the stuff I brought today, I-I was so busy I didn't even check if any of Dean's... oh god."

More rustling, a bag being unzipped, and more long sobs.

"How did I not check his things? How did I... I gave him something to kill himself with! I gave it to him! I brought it in here! John I-I..."

"Mary, Mary, honey, if there hadn't been his knife in his jean's pocket, he would have just smashed that mirror five minutes earlier. He'd have found a way Mary, it wasn't you, or the knife, Dean was just... he wanted an out and... it's fine, it's all gonna be fine, everything."

"John I-"

"Nuuu..." Dean drooled, pushing past the drugs and the pain and the mental block trying to pull him back to the numbness again.

"Dean? Baby you awake? God, I'm so sorry, I'm so-"

"Stop... jus'stop it... Mom... didn't... s'was me... m'not dead... not dead mom, didn't kill me... s'not you fault... s'plee... stop... stop it... just... mom... promise m'still 'ere."

"You stay, okay? Don't you dare think about going anywhere baby. I love you."

_**TBC...**_


	25. I Want to Hold Your Hand

**_Well gang, I got my muse back thanks to all your wonderful out of this world comments, but I did not write half as much as I wanted to this week because I have been struck with the dreaded sicky bug plus cold. I'm in my I Wuv Hugz t-shirt tonight and hoping it heals me as I sleep. So do me favor, enjoy this chapter and don't get poorly... 'kay? _  
**

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**I Want to Hold Your Hand **

Dean went into surgery the next day, first thing, bright and early, all his family by his side as he was wheeled into the anaesthesia room. It was a bit of a blur, well, more than a blur, but Dean didn't miss the pit of fear inside him.

This wasn't unnatural fear, I mean who in their right mind wasn't a little scared of cold scalpels, plastic tubes and blood?

In a couple of hours though, the next time he woke up, he'd have an ass back. Yes, ass back. No, he wasn't loopy on drugs just yet, he did just say an ass back. Apparently because of the raw... nothingness his back was at the present time, they were going to have to use a technique they used on burn victims where they shaved thin layers of skin from your thighs and ass and stuck it on the area you were missing a bit of flesh. It sounded gross but... the docs would do what they had to do.

There was too much movement and activity, lights and motion, all centered on him. He would just lay here and close his eyes, hold onto Sam's hand and try to look on the bright side like his brand new therapist had told him to. He was totally screwed up, he knew that, and one rushed session so that the shrink could tell the other docs that he was okay enough to have the surgery... yeah, fun times. Everyone knew he hated even the idea of talking about his feelings, especially to a stranger, but it's not like they gave him much choice. Trying to commit suicide right in front of your family had to do some damage beyond 'all he needs is his family and lots of love.'

He didn't exactly get much more of a choice to think about the messy situation further as white hot liquid was pushed through his IV and then some moron was telling him to count backwards. Before he could tell the voice off his mind melted into the dark.

He didn't dream in the darkness, hell it didn't even feel like he had been asleep when he woke up, it just felt like someone had taken the last three hours from his memory and left him with a blank spot in there and then scrambled things up a bit. There was someone elses there... elses? Yeah, that could be a word... elses, elses... now, what was he thinking? Whatever it was he'd think of it later, right now he was too tired and just wanted to drift for a little while longer. There was some fabric that was coarse on his face, he could tell that much, but it was just too much bother to open his eyes.

"Hey buddy, you awake?"

Right... surgery... He was on his front again, probably so he wouldn't screw up the surgeon's handiwork, so it was a little difficult to spot who was around his bed.

"We're all here honey, just go back to sleep if you need to."

Jeez, he more than needed to, it was so blurry and cloudy, his head, his body, everything, it almost hurt, and it definitely made him feel queasy. Could he puke now? No... wait, he already was.

"Ssh, it's alright, we'll get you cleaned up."

Man, passing out with puke down your chin just wasn't dignified.

"Go back to sleep baby, love you."

Love you, Mary said that all the time now, well, he said all the time but actually it had only been two days but... she did say it constantly like he might forget. Truthfully it was still hard to even believe when she said it, never mind forgetting it. But he did note she always said 'love you,' never _I_ love you, never singling out herself, like the others - Sam and John - didn't love him. She was saying it for them all. Or maybe that was just him reading too much into it, when you're laying in bed and a shrink is the only one for conversation because she has made the others sit and listen, sometimes your mind wanders.

_**SPN**_

"Dean? Are you okay? Do I need to get your doctor?"

Dean shook his head. No, he was good, or he would be if this freakin' woman would leave him alone already. She was trying to talk like a normal person, like she wasn't a therapist, she was only asking questions that couldn't be answered with yes or no, she was trying to make him talk again and that just sucked.

"I asked how you were today." Yeah, he was aware of that. He was a little lost and miserable, not stupid. He was just choosing to not cooperate.

"Fine." He had read somewhere that was the biggest lie in the history of the human race. People saying they were fine when they weren't. At least it was kind of a good lie, for other people that was.

"And how would you describe 'fine'?"

He shrugged again before his back reminded him he really shouldn't do that.

"Fine is fine."

The doctor sighed, she wasn't trying to be discrete about it either. She made that sigh very obvious, like somehow if Dean saw she was frustrated, he would give her something. Like he said, he wasn't stupid, but it seemed Dr. Aris wasn't far off.

"Maybe it would be best if your family waited outside. Would you be more comfortable talking with me without-" she hadn't even finished her sentence when Dean grabbed hold of Sam's wrist and held on tight enough to leave the poor kid with a bruise.

"They're staying," he growled, only releasing his tense jaw when his little brother stood from the chair he was in and came to balance on the edge of his bed.

"I'm not leaving you Dean," the kid promised with a sad smile.

"We've already spoken about this. We are not leaving him alone if he doesn't want to be and, in case you haven't noticed, he doesn't. So this is the last time you will bring that question up again, am I clear?" Mary questioned the woman before her, her face the picture of calm reasonableness while her eyes said the exact opposite. She had the patience of a saint, but nobody but nobody caused one of her babies pain, and she did not tolerate bitches that refused to listen.

"I understand, my apologies Dean."

Dean didn't care for her sensible _apologi__es_, he was too busy trying not to smirk at his mom, because damn that woman was funny when she was pissed, _scary_, but funny.

They both shared a smile when their gazes crossed. He was glad for the slight lift of pressure and ghost of a smile on his face when the doc started her questions again. It made it easier somehow. He figured he'd just have to suck it up and throw them a bone.

"I'm on a seesaw I guess. Sometimes it feels that way anyway..."

"And what do you mean by this seesaw? Can you explain that for me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's like... I'm either freakin' out about before... or something that's gonna happen... that might happen. I'm always swinging back and forth between my fucked up past or my probably fucked up future. The seesaw is always fucking moving and I can't stop it." He was glad he'd let go of Sam's wrist, because if he hadn't, the poor kid's bones would be creaking now. The fisted bed sheet beneath his hand certainly wasn't thanking him anyway. He released his hand from the now screwed up covers when he noted Dr. Aris jotting something down. Anger management issues most likely. It's what he was diagnosed with from the last dozen quacks he had a couple of years ago. "Sorry." He muttered towards John and Mary when he remembered he had just cursed a few more times than they usually allowed.

"It's alright kid, curse as much as you want. Therapy is a get out of jail free card, just don't have the nuns crying upstairs." His dad grinned, ignoring the look the lady doc was giving him.

The therapist had required that the whole family had individual one-on-one sessions. John had been told in his own private therapy session a couple of days ago that he used humour as a defence mechanism, a way of covering the seriousness of a situation. Hell, he was fine with that, what was wrong with trying to lighten the mood sometimes? And other times he used his power, his Marine authority to try and take control over situations. Yeah, alright, that wasn't so positive, but he was working on it.

John was curious what Mary's evaluation had been. Sam had only agreed to have therapy if Dean was there, so for now they had avoided that one. Besides, John really didn't want his youngest son being prodded and poked all alone in some room with a stranger pushing his every button. It was taking everything in him not to toss this woman out of the room right now.

"Son of a bitch, holy shit, mother fucking asshole." Mary looked at her husband gasping at the foul language, the boys were sniffling some laughs and the doc just looked confused. John winked at his kids. Point made. His sons giggles were even worth the slap he got on the back of his head.

"Language young man, you're not in therapy today. No get out of jail free card for you," Mary warned, her finger waggling in her husband's face.

"Yes ma'am."

More laughter, yup... totally worth it.

"Excuse me," someone announced, clearing their throat. It was a tall guy, pale green scrubs and a polite smile on his face, carrying a small tray of bandages and some other accoutrements. "I'm Dr. Blasko, Dean's surgeon; I'd like to do a quick check of his back if that's okay?"

Dr. Aris excused herself, mentioning something about being back at the same time tomorrow before she left.

"How are you doing today, Dean?" he asked, setting the tray down next to Dean's stack of DVD's Mary brought yesterday. "Godzilla, the original, my kinda man," he smirked towards his patient.

Dean frowned, why couldn't this guy be his therapist? He talked like he was an actual person, not like that pushy cow that just left.

"The remakes suck."

"Hey, I like it," Sam whined, but only a little. Dean smiled at the kid before he moved from the bed to make room for the doctor.

"So, how are you?"

"Okay I guess," Dean answered honestly. He was lying angled up in bed, mainly on his side with nothing touching his back, not even his hospital gown, it was untied, only resting on his shoulders, keeping his front covered but exposing the huge sheet of gauze on his spine.

The first time he'd moved, unable to stay on his front any longer, the ties on the back of the gown tugged across his tender back and anything that even ghosted across it burned - not fun. So it was Mary's idea to just leave his gown open at the back and every time the shoulder dropped, exposing Dean's still slightly bruised skin, she would replace the material with such delicate care that Dean couldn't help but smile.

"Any pain?"

"Some, s'not too bad."

"Well if it ever gets too painful, just let one of the nurses know and we'll change the dose of your pain medication."

Dean nodded, more out of politeness than agreement. He wasn't about to tell the shrink or anybody else, but he'd take the pain, it helped keep him grounded. Physical pain kept your mind off the emotional agony.

"Can you sit forward slightly for me?" the man asked, still the same polite, sincere tone as he slapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

John stood from his seat and held Dean's elbow to help him out and make sure he didn't lean too far too fast. If it was up to Dean, the kid would be bent over like a freakin' gymnast just to prove he could. He _always_ thought he had something to prove.

Dean held the hiss remarkably when John helped him move and the doctor peeled off the slightly yellowing bandages.

"Very nice, I'm impressed." That was clearly a compliment to Dean, not to his own handy work. John hoped Dean got that. "It may look discoloured and slightly irregular but in time, as your skin regenerates, it will look surprisingly natural. Hopefully you won't even be able to tell there was a single scar there in a few years."

"Really?" Craning his head Dean stared at the doc, daring him to tell him it wasn't true while hoping to hell he wouldn't.

John, Sam and Mary were all shocked Dean was making real eye contact with a stranger.

"I can't promise anything but... I have high hopes for you Dean. From what I've heard around here, nurses, doctors and police included, you're one hell of a fighter."

Dean ducked his head, he didn't deserve praise, he just didn't. He couldn't.

"Hey," John squeezed his hand, "He's right, you are."

Dean didn't say anything, but he lifted his head which was an improvement.

"Alright, this will sting, but I promise, it's not that bad."

The doc had his right gloved hand covered in some gross white paste Dean guessed was antibacterial cream, ready to slather on his back. The doc was careful, but worked quickly because fuck it did sting like a mother. Nettles, pins and needles, the works. This time the hiss wasn't caught fast enough, but he didn't care because the small warm hand that crept up to wrap around his tense fingers masked it all. He tried to ignore the stab of guilt when he felt the bandages on Sam's hand. He never intended to hurt Sam one bit when he smashed the glass, though it seemed that was all he had done that day... hurt people.

While covering his back once more in fresh gauze, the doc explained to Mary and John that they would have to do that three or four times a day when they took their eldest son home. Once he'd finished and tidied up the waste materials he pulled off his gloves and yanked on a clean pair.

"Can I look where the grafts were taken?"

His thighs did feel raw, they looked like a horribly bad sunburn where the skin was shaved off but it wasn't so bad he couldn't sit down. It was just a little awkward when he moved.

"Not bad either, those will want a little cream on too from time to time but shouldn't be too long before they heal up."

Dean nodded. "Thanks," he muttered when his covers were replaced.

"Can I take a look?" Dr. Blasko's tone had changed from bright and upbeat to quiet and sympathetic. He was now wanting to see Dean's cuts on his arms and hands. Dean held them out for the man, looking away as the bandages were removed and wounds examined. "They're fine too, won't leave much scarring."

"What about the others?" Sam spoke up.

"In a few weeks, maybe a month, your brother will be good as new." On the outside at least.

"Thanks doc."

"Thank you," Mary and John both shook the man's hand. This guy was allowed back any time he liked.

"Unless you have any more questions?"

All of them shook their heads.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow then. If you have any questions or worries, anything at all, just have me paged. Keep that head up, alright kid?" Dean nodded the best he could. "You too," Blasko pointed at Sam who snorted a little.

"Yes sir."

"Bye guys."

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked, breaking the silent tension. "Can we watch Godzilla now?"

Dean smiled. God he loved that kid.

_**TBC... **_


	26. Red Eyes and Tears

_I apologize __profusely __for the absence. College it taking up most of my time now its getting really close to exams so our teacher is really making us knuckle down in lessons and a lot out and with being poorly I've missed tons, even on lessons I went to. I really hate to do this but... __**this story is officially on HIATUS! **__Until I can find the time to do this story right. Unless anyone else wants to take over for a few chapters. Hope you can all understand. Sorry again._

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Red Eyes and Tears**

A couple of days later, Dean was sick to the back teeth of his therapy sessions, he was ready to smash his head through the wall just to have something else to do. And that bitch seemed to have timed it perfectly today that it was only him and Sam in the room. John and Mary had gone for dinner, it usually took them about an hour and half at some place with takeout because Dean simply refused to eat hospital food any longer.

The day had actually been going really well and Dean had felt better than he had in what seemed like ages. It had been Sam's turn today to pick the films and, naturally, the kid had to go for Lord of the Rings. Dean had tried to poke fun, mostly at how humorous it was a bunch of shrimps were saving the world, then had moved on to the realism, or lack thereof, of the fighting scenes. "No way could that hairy toed midget lift a freakin' sword that big."

"Dude, they're called Hobbits."

"Hobbits, you're a Hobbit."

"Good come back," Sam snorted.

But after about an hour Dean had found himself enthralled in Sam's 'terrible' choice of a movie. He'd tried every trick in the book to pretend it still sucked, only to get a knowing look and smirk from the kid. Sometimes it really didn't bode well for him how smart Sam was. So he gave in eventually and watched with pleasure, only making jibes here and there every so often, recognising that small glimmer he had inside him for something he hadn't felt in a long time - happiness. That was until Dr. Stick-Up-Her-Ass walked in.

Sam tried to tell her she wasn't supposed to be in there, not until their mom and dad came back, that was the deal, but Dean just found himself agreeing to the request of a session now. He could do this, it was just a bunch of stupid questions, it wasn't like he answered them properly anyway, he'd just grunt and mumble until she went away. He'd killed monsters this stuck up cow couldn't even dream of, listening to her for half an hour would be a piece of cake. Besides, he still had Sam.

"So, how are you today?" she smiled wide, eyes bright and eyelashes fluttering, it was sickening, so fake it made Heidi Montag's boobs look real.

"Fine," he grumbled, just like every other day.

"On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest mood, how would you describe 'fine' today?"

She had caught him in a trap, backed up against a wall, unable to weasel and dodge his way out. If he said one, he'd be admitting to depression and a butt load more of this woman; if he said ten, he'd be lying out of his ass, she would know it and probably think he was at about minus ten.

He glanced to Sam, who looked about ready to scream at the woman and throw her out himself, kid may be scrawny but he probably had some power when he was pissed. For the boy's sake, Dean came up with an answer pretty quick.

"Five," a happy medium, he wasn't perfect, but he wasn't so bad either. Guess her trap wasn't so effective after all. He nudged Sam's arm, his way of telling him he was okay, no need to pounce just yet.

"Dean, I want to talk to you about your parents."

"They're great, perfect, and if you ever write in your stupid book otherwise, so help me god..." that might have been a mistake, she was listening and watching and analysing his every twitch, but who cares? No one questions his family that way and in that tone.

"No, not the Winchesters, your birth parents."

Dean swallowed the burning fire in his throat. Was he choking? No... that was just mental, in his head, he wasn't choking, it just felt that way.

"You never ask him about that," Sam hissed, his fists clenched before they released and grabbed a hold of his big brothers shaking fingers. He had just known the psych doctor was up to something from the moment she'd come in. It had just been a flash, but he'd caught the self-satisfied look when she saw their parents weren't there and Dean had actually agreed to talk to her.

Smiling benignly, ignoring Sam's glare, she leaned forward to pat Dean's arm. "I understand it may be difficult to talk about them, dear, but you have to someday. It will help. You can't bottle it up inside forever because you're scared of feeling something."

Dean shook his head, trying to sink back into the floor. "M'not talking about that, you can't make me."

"Dean-"

"Please stop it," he pleaded, he didn't have the energy to scream like he wanted to. Squirming, he looked around to see how he could make his escape. Back and other injuries be damned, he had a clear line to the door and with Sam's help was sure he could make it.

"Nothing you say will leave this room I promise you."

"He said he didn't want to! Stop it!" Sam's protest distracted him just as he was starting to move.

She did stop, but not enough. If Dean's parents wouldn't get him to open up and express himself, then something else might. "Well, what about your uncle?"

At the mere memory that word held Dean started itching at his arms, unable to get Ron's voice out of his head, the crack of his belt and the sizzling of the cigars down his spine. His eyes blurred out as he disappeared into a dark well of memories.

"Dean, it's alright, he's dead, he can't hurt you anymore, remember?"

Sam's eyes stung with tears when he felt his brother shake, Dean wanted to forget about him, not talk about him anymore, not give him the time of day because he just wasn't worth it. Now this woman had just screwed up so much of Dean's battle to drag himself back from all that hurt.

"You have to leave now." Sam's voice was so far away, but Dean still heard the deadly rage no twelve year old boy should have. "GO!"

Startled, Dr. Aris turned cool eyes to her patient's younger sibling. She thought the bond between the two was too close and had ideally hoped to catch Dean alone. While she was glad the older boy had such a strong support system, this family fought her every step of the way and could only cause more harm than good. It was her professional opinion that, for a while, Dean would be better off without them. She would be making just that recommendation as soon as possible for Dean's sake, once she had enough evidence in her report to back her up.

"Sam, Dean's my patient and this is my job, I know it might seem harsh to you because you don't want anything upsetting your brother, but he needs to get this out."

Sam rang the call button, not for Dean, he could calm Dean down just fine, the call button was for the bitch that was refusing to leave. "You can never understand what Dean went through, so stop pretending, _just stop it_. Talking about it won't make it better for him, it just doesn't go away once it's out."

"Young man, I've been to school for many years to learn how to help people, so I think I may know a few more things than you do. It's my job to get people to talk about these things that trouble them." Moving closer to the bed, she tried to get Dean's attention again.

"Dean, it's okay, I'm not leaving you, it's okay," Sam moved in front of her, hugging his brother, mindful of his back. Dean leaned his head to Sam's chest and concentrated on breathing. "He's not worth it okay? You're better than him, you can forget him as much as you want to. It's okay, big brother." Sam's shirt was growing wet but he didn't care, Dean might be crying but at least he was breathing somewhat normal now.

"Boys?" A gruff voice, shocked and confused at the scene he'd walked into, surprised them all. A familiar voice, but it wasn't John's.

"Uncle Steve, make her leave, please, make sure she can't ever come back."

"I'm sorry sir, you'll have to leave. I'm conducting a private therapy session..."

Knowing Sam would never say such a thing unless there was a damn good reason behind it, Steve did as his 'nephew' requested.

"Ma'am." Steve's eyes snapped from the huddled figures on the bed to the rather arrogant looking woman rising from her chair. "I do believe that the law requires parental permission to conduct private therapy sessions with minors or the presence of a legally permitted adult."

"Well, yes, but..."

"Ma'am, could you please leave this room." Not in his uniform, the doctor didn't seemed threatened, until Steve pulled open the right side of his jacket revealing his badge. "_Now_," he enforced, pulling his features together and taking Dr. Aris by the arm and escorting her out of the room. "You are not to enter that room nor come into contact with the Winchesters ever again, if you do attempt to do so, there'll be a cell waiting in my station with your name on it."

He left the bewildered woman and her clipboard behind, going back into Dean's room just as one of Dean's favourite nurses bustled in. Quickly assessing the situation she gently untangled Sam from around his brother, checked Dean's vitals and took a peek at his wounds to make sure they were okay before settling him back more comfortably and smoothing his hair like a favoured grandchild.

"Now are you sure you boys are alright?"

"Yeah, thank you." Sam knew Dean couldn't talk, so he did it for him.

"Alright, I'll see you boys later."

She left the room, passing a quick smile to Steve who returned the polite gesture before pulling up the chair that was a few feet away from the bed and taking a seat.

"Hey kids, you alright?" he asked seeing them in a slightly better state than they were a couple of minutes ago. Instead of them huddled together in an awkward hug, Sam was now laid at the side of Dean on the bed but he still had a hand lightly around Dean's wrist.

They both nodded, and Steve didn't miss their red eyes and the slight tremors that ran through the eldest.

"What did she do?"

"She's Dean's therapist... _was_ Dean's therapist," Sam corrected. "She was asking him about stuff she wasn't supposed to."

Sam wasn't sure if Dean wanted the specific subject matter mentioning again, so he didn't.

"_Him_," Dean mumbled. Steve didn't need any more to know who 'him' was. He only hoped the doctor did come back again just so he could toss her in jail.

"Don't worry, she won't be asking you anything from now on." He was relieved to see Dean let some of the tension fall from his shoulders, Sam following suit soon after. "So, how you doing, kids?"

"Okay," Sam shrugged for them both.

"Where's your mom and dad?"

"Gone for dinner."

"Alright." Steve sighed and twiddled his thumbs. _Talk about awkward. _

"I don't think dad's mad anymore," Sam commented, that got Dean listening.

"What's up with dad?" he demanded.

"Nothing you need to worry about, kiddo," Steve wanted to offer the kid an act of comfort, a hug, pat on the shoulder, anything, but he had no idea what area of him didn't hurt. Another type of distraction would have to suffice- "Angus is doing well but he misses you both though. Waits by the door and when he sees it's just me..."

"Sam? What's up with him and dad?" Dean interrupted.

"Steve told him he knew about you and the... dad didn't like that uncle Steve didn't tell him, so... they kinda fell out."

Fell out in guy terms, as Dean knew, meant one of them threw a few punches. It didn't take much to guess which one, it didn't even matter if he was still a little sick or not, Dean knew his dad.

"I'm sorry... this is all my fucking fault."

"Ahem, you're not in therapy right now, kiddo," a new voice announced. "What are you doing here?" John glared at Steve as he set the bag of food down on Dean's table tray and dragged it over.

"Johnny..."

"Don't Johnny me, just get the hell out."

"Dad-"

"Dean, none of this is your fault, alright? Just concentrate on getting better, that's your only job." Turning away from his son John switched from teddy to grizzly. "You need to get the hell out of my son's room or I'm calling security."

"Guys, please don't do this here," Mary pleaded with a tired voice. Dean hadn't even seen her come in.

"Dad please, it's my fault, I asked him not to tell you, I told him I'd do worse if he did, I didn't exactly leave him with a choice, this was me okay? Just blame it on me and stop fighting."

"Dean, no one blames you for anything son."

"Well you should."

"Sweetheart-"

"No damn it!" Dean's fist rattled the table over his legs. "Listen to me! For once would you people just listen!"

Both parents sighed before taking a seat.

"Look... I'm the one who runs away, no one forces me, I'm the one who carried on hunting when you told me not to, I'm the one who kept putting a knife to my skin, I'm the one who went out to kill something with every intention of not coming back. I didn't give a flying fuck that job was way over my head. Hell, that's why I picked it. And I told Steve not to tell you guys because I wanted to carry on, I didn't want any of you to know because, fuck me, it felt good!"

"You don't mean that," Mary tried.

"I'm sorry but I do. It felt so damn good when I cut myself, I couldn't let him just walk around telling everyone because then it wouldn't feel good anymore. No one makes me do any of this stuff, so just please stop blaming each other and deal with it."

John's head was bowed low, as was Steve's, Mary's however was up high, tears sparkling in her eyes and a painful smile on her face. She stood up, leaned in and kissed both her sons.

"That's the smartest thing anyone's said in years." She pulled away, then turned to the men at opposite ends of the bed. "Now, gentlemen, either shake hands and make up, or... well there is no or, just get over yourselves already. This isn't about you, this is about our boys."

Uncomfortably, they did shake hands, it wasn't the best but it would do as a start Dean figured.

"So, what did we miss while we were gone?"

"Uh... we watched Lord of the Rings, and then Dr. Witch came in and ruined it," Sam grumbled, crossing his arms in a huff.

"She came in while we weren't here?" John asked, his brow stiff and angry.

"She tried to get me to talk about... about Ron and my parents. I-I tried to tell her... she didn't exactly take no for an answer."

"That bitch," John practically growled like a vicious wolf. He stood from his chair and turned to leave the room to go cause some tears.

"John, I took care of it. Don't worry, she won't be getting anywhere near Mary or the boys from now on. Hell, once I'm done with phone calls tonight, she'll be lucky if she has a job when she comes back into work tomorrow."

"Oh... thanks." John took to his chair again.

"My pleasure." And Steve meant that with all his heart.

"Man, she was such a piece of work. I mean I don't hit women, not that she was much of one, but hell, I wanted to beat that cow senseless."

"Hey, if you ever get arrested for the murder of a shrink, I'll make sure you don't do a long a sentence in prison."

"That's the best you got? In your position you should be able to get me a few hours of community service at the most."

"Hey, I'm sure you'll look stunning in an orange jump suit."

"Wouldn't you like to know. Got a kinky thing for the inmates Steve?"

"Nah, just get this image of you terrifying toddlers as the scariest pumpkin ever. Probably put a few of them off Halloween for life."

The boys were laughing, Mary was shaking her head, "Boys."

_**TBC...**_


	27. AN! Not Dead!

**I'm not dead!**

But my SPN writing brain might be... I'm so sorry guys, I just don't know what to say, I try to write and... _nothing_, I'm at a point where I want to cry because I feel so guilty! I don't want to even see the date on the last time I updated something properly on here. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! And I miss you guys so much!

I'm trying, I really am... :(

Sorry. I hope you don't all hate me. Even if you do, I'll still love you! And I'm sorry this isn't a chapter and I've probably pissed all guys off all the more but I just thought you deserved something from the loser yours truly, it's been so long, too long.

Lots of love and so many more sorries, Becka xoxo


	28. Tell the World I'm Coming Home

**_Well, getting around that 'unable to post' error code was a pain in the ass! Glad FF finally starting to book it's ideas up. Here you guys are... I know I owe you so much more, and I owe SamV my life for extending this sooo much. Hope this can and a cyber hug from my Cookiebear and his friends will do for now. Sorry again. _**

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Tell the World I'm Coming Home **

Dean stared at his bedroom wall, it was almost foreign to him, maybe like he was dreaming. The constant licking of his finger reminded him otherwise though. "Didn't Steve fatten you up enough that you gotta eat my hand?"

Angus was small, but solid, and he'd almost knocked Dean over when he came home. Barking and yipping like a crazy thing, his tail had been a blur before he'd flopped over on his side for a brief belly rub and then scrambled to his feet and licked the face that was finally within reach.

He'd whined at the oddly trembling touch but calmed down soon enough and attached himself like a barnacle to his master's side. Sitting quietly on the bed for the last couple of hours with his head on Dean's lap, he snuffled, eyes closed but ears twitching at every sound. Smiling faintly, Dean thought that If Angus had been a cat he would have been purring as he gently stroked his silky ears.

He'd wanted so badly to get out of the damned hospital and get home, he'd been shocked when he'd walked through the door and wanted to walk right out again. John's hand had been on his shoulder, Sam and Mary's smiles so bright they were blinding and all he could think was that he should just leave them now before he failed them again. It was like everything hit him all at once – sucking at school, not being able to save that kid, all the trouble he'd caused, never being... enough. Only the ecstatic, hyper bundle of tri-colour fur kept him moving forward.

He'd played the part best he could, smart-assed remarks left and right, made Sam and Steve howl in laughter, then pleaded he was tired and wanted to go lie down in his room. He hadn't missed the look between the adults, but they'd smiled understandingly and let him go, saying they would call him for dinner. Right then it was what he wanted, what he needed.

"You're gonna think I'm a girl for saying this but... I missed you man, wish you could've come to the hospital to entertain me and Sammy. You would've seriously come in handy with Dr. Anus, I know how much you like biting bitch's asses, pun intended." Angus stared, oblivious to his joke but clearly picking up on everything else. "You think this new doc is gonna be an asshole as well?"

After getting Dr. Anis indefinitely suspended by the hospital, some bright spark assigned him a new therapist. As much as he wanted to resist, argue that they were all going to be the same and he was better off without them, Dean just agreed. What he was doing so far in life wasn't exactly working it seemed, how else did he keep getting in these messes? He figured it was time to keep trying something else, besides he owed it to Sam to try – owed it to them all.

He shifted a little knocking the books he'd scattered around himself as camouflage, the pressure of the headboard against his back reminding him why sitting like that was not a good idea. Stiffly twisting as much as he could, he grabbed another pillow from the mound next to his bed to stuff it behind himself and eased back with a sigh. Snorting, he thought that nobody would get any sleep tonight because it looked like Sammy had ransacked the house and put all the pillows in his room. The kid was all kinds of awesome and he'd felt bad at his sad face when Mary had shoo'd him away. He'd make it up to him later.

Warm, drooly breaths from Angus were making a damp spot on his knee, but he ignored it as his eyes traced a faint jagged crack in the wall. He'd lived there for how long? and he'd never noticed it before... huh... Stopping the stroking of his pet, his fingers moved to his arm where he could just feel the swell of the bandages and let his fingertips trace a familiar path, revelling turning to revulsion at the slight sting it caused. Jerking his hand away he slammed a lid on the box in his mind on the thing that needed the pain and release... that hungered for it. He ignored it as best he could as it rattled and banged the walls of its prison.

"Hey, you should be asleep, put those away." Mary was at the door, obviously hovering as she eyed the school books in front of him. He'd barely even looked at them, just having them out because he knew that at least one of the shrinks had told them that he shouldn't be allowed to 'dwell' – whatever the fuck that meant.

He had to be honest, he wasn't ever the school kind and he'd gladly take whatever excuse came along to get him out of it. But it had dawned on him just how much he had missed, who knew what date it was, how many weeks... months he hadn't been at school, and how much he despised the idea of having to repeat the year. He could do equations while laid up in bed, the pain meds didn't cloud his brain that much.

"I'm fine, it's just school work."

"Dean, you just got out of the hospital. You need to rest." Everyone else was getting it - John and Sam that was. Mary needed it the most though and she wasn't following the rules so Dean thought why the heck should he? Plus it was the middle of the day.

"I only had a cosmetic thing, not brain surgery."

"Alright, but you're going to bed early tonight young man."

He nodded, then smirked at the mutt curled next to him when she turned and left. Grabbing the nearest of his texts he tried to plow through the pages and even take some notes. Truth be told, he couldn't understand a damn thing he was reading, and writing with his slashed hand wasn't the most fun experience he'd ever had, but at least it was distracting from all the stuff he'd yet to face. School was the one thing that could keep all the rest at bay. Things like what his back looked like when he finally gathered the courage to take a look. Things like the murder case and the dead people and all those families without their sons anymore. What if that was Mary and John... lost and without Sam because his big brother fucked up and couldn't save him.

He didn't want to tell anyone yet, but he still couldn't get that kid's stone-cold face out of his head. When he closed his eyes, sometimes the stranger's face was replaced by Sam's and for a few seconds before reality settled in, Dean was ready to seriously slash his own throat at the thought of his little brother dead, gone, ripped from this world bleeding and screaming.

Angus whined, clearly detecting his sudden distress. Dean sighed and closed his books, setting them aside, so much for that distraction. He lay down on his side, careful of his back and stroked Angus with his thumb as the little guy curled in close to his chest. The absolute trust and unconditional devotion in those deep brown eyes killed Dean – the pooch didn't know what he was; what he had done.

He didn't even register the tears until Angus poked his wet nose at his cheek.

"If you want better company I won't be offended ya know?"

Angus didn't want better company it seemed; he just wanted Dean to get better.

"Thanks buddy." Hiding his face in the soft fur coat, Dean cried a little harder until the both of them eventually fell asleep.

**_SPN_**

When he woke up from his short nap, glad to see no sight of the blood or gore from his dreams, Dean wandered out into the kitchen, more than slightly hungry.

"Hey bud, you doing alright?" John asked, cup of coffee in hand, looking like he'd only just woken up himself.

"Yeah, you?"

John nodded. Dean noted the complete lack of wheezing from the man before him, it was nice he could actually breathe now.

"Where's Sam and mom?"

"Sam's still asleep and your mom's gone to bed too, as ordered by mwah."

"Bet she took that well," Dean smirked. John might be an ex-Marine but Mary was definitely the one who wore the trousers in this house.

"She didn't, but she's in bed so that's all that matters."

Dean nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter by John, studying the tiled floor.

"How are things? Really?"

"Fine." At the sound of John harshly clearing his throat Dean looked up to catch the stern look on his dad's face and sighed. "Hard... they're hard."

"I know you're sick of hearing this but... it will get better. I'm not saying one day you'll look back at this and laugh, but it will get easier."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

Dean snorted. "Specific."

"Hey, I got good news, you're completely one hundred percent off the hook and not a suspect for this murder thing according to Steve."

The wave of relief that washed through Dean was so strong and unexpected he could barely trust himself to speak. "Will there be a... trial and evidence I have to give?"

"No, no trial because he's dead... and you gave all your statements before your operation, you don't have to worry about that anymore Dean, it's nothing to do with us anymore got it?" He didn't want to add that, given Dean's state of mind, Steve had said that the court would have to go over his dead body if they wanted more out of the boy.

Dean nodded. He might be off the hook and not have to testify and all that... but he still wouldn't stop thinking about it for a long time.

"Where's food?" a groggy voice from the hall asked, interrupting his thoughts before they went completely dark. Sam came into the kitchen, his hair a complete mess, flat on one side, freaky and bushy as hell on the other. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"Someone slept well considering they spent their nap time with their finger in the light socket."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

John ran a hand through Sam's hair when he came to sit down at the table in front of them and tried his best not to make it worse. Not that it worked of course.

"Du'ude," the kid whined in double syllables.

John just laughed as his hand was batted away. "Alright, what do you kids want for dinner? Pizza?"

Both boys nodded, Mary still slept on when it was delivered and didn't wake until the next morning.

**_SPN_**

Dean found himself standing in front of his bathroom mirror, his hand fisted in the hem of his t-shirt.

He'd been having his bandages changed by either Mary or John and never once had the slightest interest in wanting to know what it looked like, how gross it no doubt appeared - all he could think was it probably looked like a badly cooked slab of ham.

Until tonight that was.

He'd been trying so hard to be good. He'd smiled and laughed, been cheerful until he felt like his face would fall off. Hell he'd studied more in the past few days than he had all term. The only bright spot was when he'd played video games with Sam fully intending to have to let the kid win but had actually genuinely beamed when Sam had kicked his butt when he'd actually been trying. He had to keep busy 'cause when he didn't... he hated to admit it but the doc's were right... he now knew what they meant by 'dwell', and the locks on his internal box were starting to shatter. Which led to where he was now.

He wanted to call for Sam, maybe having the kid here would help, maybe when Sam said stupid lies like 'it doesn't look that bad' it would make him feel a little better, and he would believe him. Hell he could say he needed help with his t-shirt, Sam never even had to know why he was wanted in the bathroom. Then just as if by some freaky sixth sense, who was to knock at the door, but Sam.

"Dean?" he called. "Are you okay? You've been in there for like ever."

Dean looked towards the door, "Could you uh... come here for a sec? Promise I'm decent."

Sam opened the door and made his way inside. "What's up?"

"I uh... I wanna see what my back looks like, I haven't... there weren't exactly any good mirrors in the hospital and... I just need to look..."

"Um, okay... do you need help with your t-shirt?"

Dean shook his head, lifting the white tee up, taking out his arms and whipping it over his head in one clean swoop.

"Help me get this crap off," he asked turning so Sam could peel the sheet of gauze from his skin.

Hesitating, Sam did as he was told, carefully inching off the corners where the tape was holding it to Dean's skin, he hadn't actually seen Dean's back, not even in the hospital, so he was just as uneasy as Dean about this. "Sorry, does it hurt?" he asked, not daring to move more than a millimetre every few moments.

"It's fine," Dean assured him when he knew Sam was worried about hurting him. The kid's eyes went wide when all was revealed and Dean's fists got tighter, clearly seeing his brother's shocked expression.

"Dean..." he gasped, dropping the gauze to the floor in his surprise.

Dean swallowed, turning and panicking trying to see what Sam was seeing, thinking the worst and totally missing the reason for Sam's reaction until he finally met the mirror.

"Holy shit!" he went closer to the mirror to see if this really was it, if he was really seeing _this_. "There... they're gone... holy shit it's like... hell it looks like it didn't even happen... it's like... Sammy fuck... he didn't even exist, all those fucking dead people... it's like... it never happened, Sammy they're gone!" It wasn't perfect, everything was still healing, but basically the marks were gone.

Sam just smiled and chuckled a little.

As shock settled and happiness took over, Dean's face lit up and he could swear he almost cracked his face in half with his freakin' grin. "Do I have a fucking sexy ass back or what?"

Sam was laughing for real now, only Dean could make that sound actually cool.

**_TBC..._**


	29. Try

_AAHH! Sorry this is taking so much time!____And if you didn't get the memo, it's me, Lost in a forest with a changed name because I'm an awkward sod.___

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Try**

Dean was lying sprawled on the couch, flipping through some random magazine because the TV was just crap, and Mary and John, hell even Sam, had yet to let him out of the house except to see the shrink. It had been a couple of weeks since he was allowed to take his bandages off for good. Two weeks of looking at it in the mirror at every chance he got, mostly just to make sure it was still real, but partially to gloat at the twisted asshole he knew was in hell right now.

"Mary's _Elle_ mag? Really?" John said from behind the couch with a smirk on his face.

Dean shrugged and turned a healthy shade of pink. "It has chicks in it at least." Even a couple of nipples in one 'how to get the perfect suntan' shoot. It was like censored porn, a sneaky way of having a less creepy Playboy under your mattress.

John snorted, shaking his head. When he came around to sit, Dean lifted his legs up, knees bent to keep his feet to the one side of the couch only to have them tugged and made to lay them over John's lap. Dean had a crawling feeling it was to keep him from getting away.

"Son... I wanted to talk to you."

_Crap!_ Dean felt nerves build, and he swallowed, "About what?" _Stay cool, stay cool._

"About Christmas. Your mom's been bugging you and now she's bugging me about bugging you, so now it's my turn. How about it kid, Sammy's already given us his list, we just need yours now."

"Oh..." a wave of relief in one breath, and a tensing of his jaw muscles in another. "Nothing, I'm good, really. Don't worry about it."

"Dean, you're having something whether you like it or not." John mentally sighed, remembering the first two Christmases his new boy had with them. Kid had been about as comfortable as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But the clumsily wrapped present that Dean had awkwardly thrust at him may have looked like a bag of chocolate peanuts identical to the ones they used together to work out that maths problem years ago. But to him it was gold, he just didn't want to think too hard about how Dean might have gotten it with no money.

"I swear I'm good, you don't need to get me anything, just... get Sammy some stuff, I'll be just as happy watching him open presents." _Even more happy._

"If you don't make a list by next week, your mom swears she's getting you some dress-up outfits for Angus. They'll be pink and sparkly and he will not be your friend if you don't do as you're told."

"Dude, he's not Tinkerbell."

"He will be by the time she's done with him."

"Oh come on, that's just cruel."

"I know, I married a brilliant woman, what can I say," John grinned slyly. "Seriously dude, pick a few things, okay? Just off the top of your head, what do you want for Christmas? It doesn't have to be huge or expensive, it just has to be what you want."

"Okay," he sighs. He knows his mom's not going to stop and she will dress Angus up like Paris Hilton's new BFF if he didn't pick some stuff. "I'll think about it."

Smiling John eased Dean's feet off of his lap before plopping them back down and patting his leg as he left on his way.

He does think about it, but all he kept coming back to was a great big 'no'. Stuff like that was for other people, not wastes like him, and he was sure one day they'd all realise it. He wasn't stupid, he kind of remembered normal from before, and he'd always known what was going on out in the world. But thanks to uncle Ron, looking at all the tinsel and glitter was like watching from behind a tv screen; flat, pretty and totally unreal. He was fucked in the head, didn't need no fancy shrink to tell him that.

He'll keeping all of this to himself though, trying to pretend that if he does they'll believe he's perfectly okay. It's dumb and yes... the more he keeps this upbeat shit up, the more they will probably actually worry, but cut him some slack... he was trying here.

Later that day Dean was wandering around his room, quietly going crazy. He'd been dodging his mom's requests and after dad had mentioned Christmas presents, he panicked, more so on what he was going to get them than what he wanted to receive. He needed something for Sammy, mom and dad, crap he had Steve too... how the hell do you buy presents without leaving the house?

He'd just have to shop in his own room, which was kind of ridiculous and funny as all he had was dirty socks and old salt and what good were they to anyone, even himself, now? He couldn't even make anything out of wood as all his knives, including the ones he'd had hidden as well as everything else that was even remotely sharp in the house, had mysteriously disappeared. He'd swear that mom locked anything sharper than a spoon in the trunk of the Impala after dinner and wasn't that just his fault too...

Whatever, the effort was worth a few points right?

He dug in his wardrobe, under the fallen articles of clothing he could never be bothered to put back on a hanger, past the few random hunting things like leftover holy water and so on that were harmless (at least to humans). He came across some rosary beads - was it tacky to them give mom? Yeah... definitely, she probably already had some too. He dug more, and after thirty minutes of turning his room upside down, he found nothing but junk or stuff they had given him. Jesus, how pathetic. All they had given him, done for him, what life they made for him, and he couldn't even find a couple of novelty bits of junk to give them on Christmas to say thanks.

"Fuck," he cursed, slamming one of the wooden closet doors shut before sliding down it and digging his hands into his scalp. He cursed yet again when he heard footsteps close by, someone opening his door and coming to sit beside him silently.

"Was wondering how long that was gonna take," Sam said.

"What? Me screwing up and having a tantrum like a damn baby again?"

"Nope, you being... you. So what's up? And don't say nothing, you know I'm not gonna shut up until you tell me."

Dean huffed, maybe a little overly dramatic, but who cared? Sam wouldn't.

"It's Christmas soon." 8 days to be exact.

"Yeah..."

"And I have fuck all to give you guys."

"Oh... that's okay, you don't have to get us anything."

"Yes. Yes I do," Dean forced. "I so suck at this."

"Dean, anything is fine. It's the thought..."

"Dude," Dean interrupted, "last year I gave you hairspray!" Sam snickered at the memory and Dean was pleased to see that the dimples of doom were still alive and kicking.

"Well, kids don't have to get adults stuff until they like... have a job or something, and neither of us do, so that's them out, and... I've got only one thing I want."

Dean lifted his head, hopeful. "What?"

"Promise me you'll never try to hurt yourself again... please?" Sam pleaded, his eyes glassy.

"What does-"

"Dean, please. I can't lose you... please just... please be okay, you have to be okay. You're my big brother, so you have to be okay because I need someone to kick my ass in sports and to look out for me when I get picked on at school and to show me how to fix a car and to give me my first beer when our parents won't let me."

Dean didn't know it was possible for a warm burst of happiness to wash across his soul at the same time as it cringed away. Lying to the kid was not an option. O-okay... I promise... I'll... I won't be a dumb ass anymore, just... help me with these damn presents."

He was pleased to see the dimples reappear and a little surprised how the kids seemed to almost relax so much he nearly slumped over. Who knew the kid was so stiff. He'd have to work on that.

"When I was little I used to give them letters, like I'd write 'I will clean my room all the time love from Sam', some dumb stuff like that... they always humoured me and kept the letters. Maybe that could work for us now?"

Dean chuckled, thought about it, then nodded, "Alright, so what? _To Dad, I will wash your car for a month, merry Christmas from Sam and Dean_."

Sam smiles, "Yep. Wanna do it together?"

"Yeah... sure shrimp," Dean noogied Sam until he started swatting back. "That the best you got?" Dean challenged when Sam wriggled away, flailing uncoordinated arms trying to get his own back.

"I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Come on kiddo, show me what you got," Dean laughed, standing with his knees bent, hands flapping in a 'come and get me' motion. Smiling, Sam charged, shouting his battle cry that ended with a yelp as suddenly the world flipped and he found himself being flung head over heels to land back on the bed. So that was how it felt to get your ass whupped. Huh!

"Sam?"

Sam was panting, but not moving, and a cold fear trickled down Dean's spine that he got carried away, his over excitement going too far and he'd hurt him, hurt his little brother. But then Sam started laughing, just little chuckles at first before he soon burst into hysterics and Dean wasn't long following suit with Sam's infectious grin.

"You have... to show me... how to do that," Sam gasped between giggles as he heaved himself off the bed to his feet.

Dean just laughed, his grin becoming even brighter as an idea popped into his head...

Dean could barely believe that it was just a few hours ago that he thought he'd go nuts with boredom, but now that he had a goal and a plan time seemed to be moving more like a freight train and Christmas felt like it was coming almost too soon. He barely had time to find a damn pen and some paper so they could write their presents, yes, write, it was kind of lame, he knew that, but he wanted to give that 'the effort is what counts' thing another try - for Sam he had to try. Like the kid said, who else was gonna kick his butt and show him how to beat up bullies and so on; no way he was giving Sam a beer but... the rest held.

For John and Mary they had a collective 'we will wash your car for the next month, we will clean our rooms for the next month (or try to at least)'. Random stuff, but truth be told, Dean sort of loved the lameness of it, it made him feel like a little kid again, even if just for a little while.

The next day he and Sam goof around together, tossing around the football in the yard, Sam loosing it in the snow every time he couldn't catch it when Dean tossed. Angus gets lost a few times too, and even makes himself a tunnel in the ten inches of snow surrounding them. He messes up the carpet when Mary calls them back inside, rolling around on the warm carpet by the fireplace before she can catch him and dry him off on the tile kitchen floor.

The boys laugh when she points to them and says "you're so cleaning that." They think she's joking, but after a hot cup of coco each and some clean dry clothes brought down thanks to John, she hands them the carpet cleaner and a clothe with a smirk. "Get to work, I want that back to what color I bought it by the time you're done."

"Aw mom!" they groan in unison, John is laughing when she stars then down, long enough for them to set aside their empty cups and kneel on the floor together scrubbing. The old man soon shuts up when she gives him the look too.

"I'll just go clean up the kitchen," he says scurrying away awkwardly.

"Are you a man or a mouse?" Dean asks, offended by the wuss in the building.

"Mouse!" he shouts back from the other room. "And she's the huge cat!"

"She?" Mary demands with her hands on her hips.

"My darling beautiful wife, sorry."

The boys chuckle together and Mary skips off proudly, if anyone knew how to keep her men in line, it was her.

Even with the chores and the stupid mud marks that won't come out of Mary's cream carpet for love nor money, Dean realizes he's had a blast today. He hasn't looked into the mirror once, or had to pinch himself of reality verses insane dreams. He's just happy and peaceful and wow, Sam should rent himself out as a therapist. The stuff coming from that kid was priceless compared to the quacks that get paid thousands of dollars to tell people they're nuts for a living.

It was ten in the evening and Sammy was still by his side, Dean makes a joke about it being past little boys bedtimes, Sam playfully punches him in the arm and Dean knows he's got to get the kid to hit harder than that in his lessons in a few days.

Angus comes skipping into the room, he still smells like Mary's shampoo, they couldn't find anything at the time on the side of the bath, but it served the purpose it was intended to, cleaned him up and got him and his dirty paws out of the dog house, pun intended.

"Hey boy." Sam pulls Angus onto the bed and sits him in his lap, stroking his soft brown fur and tickling him behind the ears. "Maybe we should by you some socks and a coat for next time, then you won't get us into trouble."

Dean laughs, thinking about what John said the other day. He hopes Sam doesn't have the same fashion sense as mom.

"What?" Sam asks, poking his shoulder when he can't stop snorting to himself.

"Nothing, nothing just...dad said mom wants to buy a Tinkerbelle outfit for him for Christmas."

"Oh God no, oh that's so uncool, that'll scar him for life," Sam gasps, and Dean laughs a little more.

"That's what I said, so um...I need your help."

"With ripping it off of him when Christmas comes?"

"No, with um... mom said if I didn't make a present list for myself then she would dress him up in sparkly tutus and stuff, like Tinkerbelle, that was the blackmail thing I guess this year."

"Oh, well, that's better then, how come you need my help with that?"

"Cause I got no clue what I want, I mean I don't want anything, I just feel weird asking for stuff, it feels... wrong somehow. I know what you're gonna say, I shouldn't feel wrong, it's what happens at Christmas, everyone does it. But it's hard to not thinking how I think when I've done it for most of my life, I just think... no amount of therapy is gonna change who I am."

"I thought therapy wasn't about changing you, I thought it was to make you feel better about bad stuff." Sam is playing dumb, he knows exactly what Dean means, what his therapy is for, Dean plays along anyway.

"It is... but... I just think sometimes you guys are telling me things that hoping I'll think differently about everything, the whole damn world, and I'm not sure that's gonna happen, I just... I am how I am, and I'm always gonna feel this way, I'm always gonna feel guilty for making a damn Christmas list to my... to my parents."

"Oh... it's okay, I feel bad too, it's weird asking even mom and dad hey buy me this and this and this, or else. I feel like those kids on my sweet sixteen sometimes."

"You watch my sweet sixteen?"

Sam rolls his eyes, "Stop changing the subject, and you watch it too, hah."

Dean sighs and wets his lips. "Okay so... you feel weird, like... guilty almost?"

"Oh yeah, but... like you said, it's what you do at Christmas. So, think, what do you like?"

"Um... I don't know, I like tossing a football in the back yard with my little brother and my dog. I don't need anything else."

"I know you don't need anything else, but what do you _want_? Hey, you like wood work stuff, maybe you could ask them for some wood sculpting tools and stuff."

"Sammy, I'm not allowed to use a blunt dinner knife unsupervised, they're hardly gonna let me have a huge tool kit."

"Well yeah but, you're not doing that stuff again, you won't, I know you won't. I trust you, mom and dad do too."

"Well yeah but, sometimes trust isn't enough, sure you trust me now, what about in a week if I get my head up my ass again and I start going mental and... I don't trust myself Sam, I hardly expect you guys to."

"You won't Dean, I know you won't, you can ask them, at least if you ask them you tried, and if they say no, they can't get mad 'cause you _tried_."

Dean thinks about it, Sam's got a point, and that's what this was about right? Trying. A tool kit would be pretty cool, it's something he would want maybe... and even if they said no, so what? He thought about what he would like, not need, for once in his life. Okay Sam did all the leg work and thought for him, but still... and when they said no, there was asking for socks instead.

After midnight, when Sam had zonked out on his newly tidied floor with his covers, his pillow and Angus curled up next to him, the kids nose in the pups belly, Dean got out the writing paper again. He wrote his presents and promises to the kid in as neat writing as he could manage. He even tried his hand at a stupid smiley face and some dumb drawing of a stick figure that didn't pan out as well as he pictured in his mind but... effort, effort, effort, that's all he chanted to himself these days, it made things a little easier.

The last couple of days leading to Christmas are a bit of a blur, everyone rushing around for the last minute shopping runs and the groceries for the big Christmas dinner. Steve comes around a few times, plays some video games with he and Sam while John and Mary go to the mall. Dean tries not to think of the real reasons why the man has been invited over for the afternoon.

**TBC...**


	30. Carolling

**Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V**

**Carolling **

He was dozing, thinking about going back to sleep when he heard a snow plow outside, knowing it must be insanely early when Sam came crashing into his room, jumped on his mattress and started bouncing up and down joined by an insanely barking and hyper-excited Angus.

"Dean! Dean! Wake up! Wake up, it's Christmas! Come on! Come on! Come on! Dean, wake up! Dean! Dean! Dean! Get up dude it's Christmas!"

The kid had just given him a heart attack and was now shouting his ear off and practically making him seasick. Ah well, it was Christmas, the day everyone and anyone had the excuse to be as loud and hyper as they liked without being told off for it.

"Jeez kid, I'm up, I'm up," he groaned pushing himself up into a sitting position, then ran a hand through his flattened hair.

"Get up! Get up! Come on! Presents are waiting!"

"Dude... lower the volume, I get it, I'm coming already." He flipped the covers off, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then stumbled off the bed with a yawn to follow Sam and Angus who were both practically sprinting to the living room. "Whoa... when did we get a tree?"

There had been a few decorations and ornaments around the house from the attic but nothing like the explosion of bits and baubles like they had put out the last few years. He'd figured they'd all been too busy keeping tabs on him, making sure he didn't try to kill himself again.

"Steve brought it the other day, it's been in the garage. It was a surprise but I kinda saw it the other day."

"Oh... what's with the mountains of presents?" Every year it was getting bigger.

"It's Christmas," Sam said with another grin, like it was the answer to everything, which it kind of was.

"Fair enough... so when do you think mom and dad will be up so you can open 'em?"

"How about now?" a gravelly voice yawned from the stairs. John came into the living room and moved to the fire to turn it on, it was freezing.

"Where's mom?" Sam said. He knew the rules in this house: no open presents until everyone's up.

"She's coming." The flames alight, John moved away to sit in the middle of the room by his kids. It made his heart warm to see how happy the both of them are. Trying not to be obvious, he looked over his oldest. There was still, and probably always would be, shadows haunting his eyes, but there was the edges of a new peace and contentment shining through that had never been there before. The shadows were getting less thick and heavy, his shoulders looked lighter, he held himself higher these days, he wasn't as slumped and hell, he smiled and laughed at every opportunity. The kid had worked his ass off to get this far, to let himself feel able to laugh, to hold his head up at eye level with others, maybe sometimes it was forced but Dean was really trying. What more could a father ask for?

He's brought from his thoughts when Mary comes down to join them with a smile on her face too. Gently shooing a protesting Angus away to go lay still already, she sat down by them, putting an arm over Sam's shoulder and hugging him to her side for just a few seconds, John chose to ruffle Dean's messy bed head hair.

"Can we open 'em now? Can we? Can we?" Sam said bouncing on his butt until his parents laughed and nodded. He grabbed the closest gift and ripped off the paper in a flash. "Cool!" he almost squeals. Holding up a build your own airplane model kit to show Dean who tells him it's cool too, and promises to help Sam build it sometime.

Next Sam decides to open a big one, it turns out to be the PS3 he's wanted all year. He gives him mom and dad a huge hug then gets to work on opening the rest of his gifts. Ending up by the end of the half hour with several PS3 games, more model build things, P.J's, football boots to play in the back yard properly, and a lot of other kid boy stuff that will keep his occupied for the next five years.

Only after they trash Sam's unwanted wrapping paper do they note Dean has yet to even touch his pile, he just stars at it like he's afraid, like it's something he shouldn't even make direct eye contact with.

"Come on pal, your turn. It's okay."

Dean stars up at John, his eyes shining like a small unsure child.

"Go for it," John says, pushing one of the presents towards him.

After a long tense while, Dean does pick it up, and peal the tape away slowly, with much more precision and care than Sam previously had. It's a car model, a 97 Chevy Black Impala, cream interior; will definitely worth a fortune in a few years and more than just a collections item when he gets a look at the copy right date on the box.

"You didn't have to..."

"Yes we did, Christmas remember? Besides, the guy that sold it to us didn't have a clue how much that thing was worth, it definitely belongs to someone that does, someone that will take care of it."

Dean smiles, and leans into Johns leg from where he sat leant up on the couch from the floor. John runs a hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck in support. Mary smiles at him leans over to his him on the forehead.

"You gotta open the rest!" Sam orders, bored already, wanting to know what else his big brother had got.

Dean does as commanded, next opening up some pyjamas of his own, new socks, new sneakers, shirts, diesel jeans, Mary is definitely trying to fatten up his closet. He also gets a few more _adult_ games for the PS3 he and Sam are meant to share and a couple of board games because he told Mary and John a long while ago he never really got to play things like Twister and Scrabble.

The last thing he's got to open is relatively small, it's a rectangular shape, wrapped up perfectly in silver paper which he tears off to reveal an antique looking box. He opens it up carefully hoping he's got it the right side up and his nose turns up in confusion.

"I don't get it," he says, taking out the set of keys and jingling them.

"You know what keys those are too don't you?" John asks, hinting, but Dean is still lost.

"The Impala?"

"Yup."

"I still don't follow, I know what they keys to the car look like."

"Well do you know what the view from the Impala driver's seat looks like? Cause you're going to need those if you plan to."

Calculating the words, Dean takes a moment, then his eyes shoot out of his sockets in shock when it sinks in.

"Holy shit! I-I mean shoot!" he corrects himself in a stammer.

John chuckles and Mary snorts, "We'll let that one slip sweetie."

But Dean is a little too shocked to be thankful he doesn't owe anything to the swear jar. "You're gonna let me drive the Impala?"

"Not just that, we're giving it to you, permanently, once you've got your driver's licence at least."

"Holy..." he doesn't have the capacity to finish his sentence off this time. "But...what are you gonna drive?"

John shrugs, "I don't know, guess I'll need yours and Sammy's advice on that when we go car shopping after the holidays, but I am liking the look of those big trucks, like a 1986 step-side."

"Hm..." Dean says, "They're cool, just not as cool as _my_ car..." Dean grins cockily to his family, though it's still a bit of a shock.

After the boys give their hand written gifts to their parents and receiving hugs and kisses –much to their embarrassment- from both John and Mary, they clear up the living room, and take their gifts into Dean's room, moving out of the way while their mom cooks dinner.

Dean challenges Sam to a game of monopoly, of which he loses because he has no idea how to play and Sam is totally making up the rules, a get out of jail free card? Talk about cheating!

Once he's good and defeated, best out of three, Sam tells him he's got to go get something. He comes back not a minute later with a slim flat box in his hand and hands it to his brother.

"I can't wrap, I know," he says, turning a healthy shade of pink as Dean takes in the screwed up and ripped snow men paper.

"Neither can I dude, but what is this? I thought we were gonna write letters to each other, which we totally did."

"Yeah, I know..." Sam says recalling the time barely an hour ago when he received Dean's and vice versa. "I saw these months ago and I bought them with the money I saved up when I could. Before we were on house lock down."

Sam says we, because he knows Dean isn't the only one not allowed out of the house just yet.

Dean is still a little unconvinced but opens the 'wrapping' anyway. Another box, another one Dean hopes he's opening up not upside down so the thing inside falls out and breaks. Though when he gets a look at it, the right way up, lucky him, it's nothing something that can break.

"Sammy...jeez how much did the spend on these?" he asks, looking at the three leather bracelets.

"Not much, I swear, and I don't care, I thought they were cool. See, I wear one, and you wear two 'cause you're older." Sam takes out one for himself, and puts it on his wrist easily without untying it because his wrists were so skinny. He helps Dean put on his, having to un-do them for him, putting them on so both bracelets are looped into each other. "They're supposed to be this brother bonding bracelet things and they have some sort of magical binding protection power. Usually I wouldn't believe any kind of crap like that but...weirder things have happened, and it can't hurt."

"Guess not...thanks little brother, these are...these are awesome." Dean smiles at Sam, really enjoying how much he's doing that today. He seriously needed to start learning that Christmas's aren't as bad as they used to be, as bad as he always imagines them being. So far this day was pretty awesome.

Once they show John their new bling, and he compliments them on it, they play another game of monopoly, Dean doesn't win this time either but he makes more money than John at least. Who ends up in jail more times than he can count on his fingers and toes.

"You're not a very good influence," Mary comments with a witty grin when she comes in every so often from the kitchen.

Steve comes over later for dinner when it's ready, it's a little awkward at first, but soon the adults fall into their natural friendly rhythm.

After it goes dark, and Steve announces he's heading off, Sam grabs his hand and pulls him back to the living room, saying he had to stay, because it just wasn't Christmas without he and John falling asleep on the couch together with beers in their hands and some old western on the TV.

They find Dean's twister from his pile on his bed, and they all have a go after setting it up the kitchen. Mary is the one turning the dial, and Dean, Sam and John are the ones trying not to break their necks are they twist around each other.

John is the one that collapses them all after a good half hour, luckily though as he falls, he pulls his boys to land on top of him rather than under. They share a bundle of laughs and make fun of the old man when he complains about his bad knee.

As Dean lays on the floor, panting and chuckling, he feels the laughter and warmth of the people in the room behind and allowed himself to dive headfirst into the love that he felt. The love he never thought he could possibly deserve, and forget for the moment that there were other forces out there that lived for the possibility to take that from him. He didn't know that as he looked out, something was looking back at him. Luckily though, he had the most amazing family to be there for him if ever those things come to attack.

**The End. **

_Okay, I've never had such almost physical pain in trying to write something than this in my entire life, but alas, it's done, and I hope the ending isn't too much of an anticlimax and a letdown as you've waited so long. Thank you so much for all the support throughout this! Especially Samantha V who has stuck by my side and been so much more than a beta to me! I love you all, and I solemnly swear I will NEVER write and post another story again without finishing it first. Hugs! Becka. _


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